


Windshield

by Sanguied



Series: Windshield [1]
Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Child Abuse, Consensual Underage Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:04:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 33,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6073315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanguied/pseuds/Sanguied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slices of newsies' life that build and twist into a larger story. The road to immortality can be long, winding and full of potholes.<br/>Mostly Race/Spot, with David/Jack/Crutchie. No Mary Sues.<br/>Not modern time until we get there and yes some of them do get there.<br/>Please read the warnings ahead. Keep in mind life is NOT easy for children on the streets.</p><p>                 He ain’t dead and its game night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Come on Higgins"

Big Man scowled he didn’t have a beef with Conlon-didn’t want one either. What the hell was the leader of the Brooklyn newsies doing standing outside a Manhattan warehouse? Big Man wiped his brow. All he’d wanted was a piece of Manhattan and to teach Cowboy a little lesson in sharing. None of which had anything to do with Brooklyn. He nodded towards his boy Mitchy, who opened the door of the warehouse they’d _appropeerated._ Mitchy stumbled back as Spot slumped against the doorway that damn cane spinning in his palm.

Big Man stood a foot taller than Spot, had at least fifty pounds on him, but every instinct in his body told him not to push it. “Evening Spot.” Showing Spot respect was considered smart by everyone.

“Evening Big Man,” Spot’s smirk made Big Man nervous and looking around Big Man could tell he wasn’t the only one, but he was the one that had to deal with him.

“Something we can do for you Spot?”

“You? Not particularly.” Spot eyed the other side of the warehouse, where Cowboy and the Manhattan boys did not look pleased by the interruption. Big Man may have made the move but it looked like Jacky-boy was impatient to show him the error of his ways. He inclined his head, “Cowboy.”

Jack looked surprised. “Yeah Spot?”

Spot rolled his eyes with such a disgusted sneer that several Brooklyn Boys bowed up, taping their bats against their large hands.

Jack looked to his own. Blink tapped his bat against the floor not paying attention. Mush just looked confused and, as he looked around the other confused faces, Jack really wished he could’ve brought Crutchie. His eyes landed on the only person who looked angry rather than confused and sighed.

Big Man got there first, quickly offering. “Hey, I asked him to take a hike.”

While technically a Manhattan boy everyone knew Racetrack sold in Brooklyn with the King’s blessing, ran cards in Queens, dice in the Bronx, and numbers in Midtown. Race was the only newsie welcomed anywhere and soaking him could be taken badly by all. He’d already told his boys to leave Racetrack be, which was a relief to them and a done deal before he'd even said it.

Race scowled, not liking the implication. “Ey!”

Jack didn’t mention he’d also told Race to beat it and he didn’t say anything now because he had to share living quarters with the guy.

Spot turned his scowl towards Race. “Let’s go Higgins.”

“Wha? No,” Race furious, glared between the leaders.

Jack sighed, so much for staying out of it, but if Race managed to piss Spot off nothing was getting done but Brooklyn soaking the lot of them. “Go on Race. We’s got this and you gotta a game tonight.”

Race threw up his hands. “Fuck it.” He stalked through Big Man’s boys and they quickly leaned back out of the way of the shorter boy. Race stopped at the doorway, nose to nose with Brooklyn’s king. Spot raised an eyebrow, Race scoffed. “I hope Brooklyn’s got moola to lose tonight.” He went past Spot and the doorway.

Spot glanced back, watching Race walk away and nodded for a couple of his boys to follow, he didn’t think Race was ready for his company yet. He turned his eyes back into the warehouse, “Gentlemen.” He nodded and stepped from the doorway. He waited until he heard the lock engage before he signaled a few of his boys with a glance. “If it ain’t Jacky boy that comes out that door soak ‘em.” He didn’t need some damn upstart getting ideas.


	2. The Need for Speed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Motorbikes weren't exactly easy to come by but when Race comments on the coolness of them, Spot decides to 'find' one.

“Ah jeez Spot, I don’t know.” Race held his hat between his fingers, as he scratched the back of his head. He wasn’t no pansy but damn he’d never even ridden a regular bike before. So this seemed a little much.

Spot scowled, he’d called in a lot of favors for this. Motorbikes weren’t exactly easy to come by after all and he had to return this one before its owner noticed it was gone. “You thought they were smooth when we saw that one last month.”

Race nodded. “And they are but, maybe less when I’m fearing for my life.”

Now Spot was just getting pissed. “Get in the sidecar Race.” Spot climbed on.

“Um,” Race went around to the side with the bucket like thing with a seat in it. He saw where it attached to the bike, it looked alright, but, “do you know how to drive this?”

Spot started the bike. “Yes.” He hoped his look conveyed what he thought of that question, of course he took it for a spin, several, before offering Race a ride. “Racetrack.”

Race climbed into the bucket and wished he’d gone to church recently. He mumbled the Hail Mary beneath his breath as they peeled off.

Spot was pissed for a few miles but damn he couldn’t stay mad while driving this magnificent machine. He had to get himself one. He was afraid to glance at Race, afraid he’d have to stop if the other boy looked too scared. He took a corner and heard Race scream. He glanced over, only to see Race grinning, the other boy looked thrilled, arms stretched like he was flying. Spot smirked and kicked the gas. He circled the place he meant to stop twice before making himself park the bike.

Race was still giggling and Spot had to bite down on his own grin before he let out a whistle that was returned from the alley they’d stopped in front of.

Minutes later a boy scampered out. He was about 7 or so and nearly staggering under the weight of the bag he carried. The boy stopped beside the bike.

“They get everything I asked for?” Spot asked, taking the bag from the kid and handing it to Race without looking.

The boy nodded several times, “Yes sir mister Spot it’s all in there.”

“Thanks kid,” he handed the boy a nickel.

The kid’s eyes were huge as he looked the coin over. “Thank you mister Spot.” He took off into the shadows, where Spot was certain older boys waited.

Spot gave a nod that way and started the bike. He glanced over to Race, who was opening the bag. Spot slapped his hand away, “No peeking and hang on to it.”

Race huffed but started grinning again as Spot hit the gas. Race had never moved this fast, the speed which they passed everything, the wind, he felt like he was flying. He shoved the bag by his feet, bracing it so it didn’t fall over, even as he threw his arms up to catch the wind.

Spot knew he was cutting it close when he returned to Brooklyn. He may have taken the longest way he could have and may have doubled back a few times. It was just Race was having such a good damn time and Spot hadn’t seen him smile and laugh like this in ever. Race was stilling grinning, flushed faced and happy when Spot finally turned the bike over. As it went down the street back to its owner, Spot reaffirmed the thought that he wanted one.

“Now what?” Race bounced in place.

Spot picked up the bag. “Come on.” Spot couldn’t afford to be seen bouncing and happily acting the fool in public so he left it to Race, who may have thought the streets were as empty as they seemed, but probably just didn’t care. Spot cared though and knew the street weren’t empty and sent a couple of discrete hand gestures to the shadows.

They went the back way of the Brooklyn lodging house and up the fire escape to Spot’s private room. A privilege only afforded to Spot’s best friend. Spot dropped the burlap over the windows while Race lit the lamps in the room. Spot brought the bag to the table. “Sit.”

Race rolled his eyes, but took a seat at the small table. His irritation was gone the moment Spot started pulling stuff out of the bag, first a bottle of wine, then a jar of sauce mixed with noodles, and bread that still steamed as it was unwrapped from its towel and then finally a jar with cake. Race practically drooled. “Ah man,”

Spot smiled, Race impulsively leaned across the small table and kissed the corner of Spot’s lips, the smile cracked and Spot didn’t fight the grin, they were alone here. Race had no idea where Spot got the food or the wine but he thoroughly enjoyed both. He was slightly tipsy and actually not hungry when Spot pushed him onto the bed.

“Race,” Spot went right for the place on his neck that made Race’s toes curl.

Race leaned up and bit Spot’s earlobe and then nipped his jawbone, granting him a full body shutter. They’d been at this long enough, comfortable enough with each other that they knew the best ways to get each other going. “Clothes,” Spot pulled at him and Race followed.

The clothes thrown wherever, they tussled on the bed, rolling until Spot pinned him to the mattress, thrusting against him. Race decided it wasn’t so bad being on the bottom even if it was Spot’s turn. He could just reach the hidden spot inside the mattress where he grabbed the container they’d hidden there. He tried one handed but couldn’t get it open. He raised his knees, as Spot grabbed his hips, which gave him the perfect opportunity to get the container open and some onto his fingers. Spot’s patience gave out and he took the bottle and closed it. Spot just got it put away when his eyes rolled back in his head as Race grabbed them both and squeezed them together. He joined his hand with Race’s giving them the perfect place to thrust against each other.

“Wanna fuck me?” Race breathed out.

Spot moaned at the thought, and looked down at Race’s heavily lidded dark eyes, as he bit his lip and moaned. Race’s whole body moved with Spot’s thrust. Christ he was perfect and Spot, “Can’t you’re too much, just like this, want you.”

“Yeah, please,” Race thrust up, wanting to get as close as he could, riding each movement of Spot’s hips. He reached up with his free hand and wrapped it into Spot’s hair pulling him into a kiss that made his stomach drop. They kissed until Race broken away, arching his neck and biting his lip to be quite as an orgasm racked his body. Just the sight of Race coming, the idea of it, sent Spot over the edge, fucking into Race’s lax hand, tightening his own and a small thrill of coming all over his Race.

“Eww, Spot.” Spot grinned as he dropped next to Race, though he wasn’t laughing long, when Race rolled over onto him and shared the mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Male friendship were a lot more affectionate back then, hand holding, cuddling, just plain affection was not damning in those days. As homosexuality was so far in the closet it was in Narnia it just wasn't mentioned. One of the best easy explanations of this (without the real heavy history) is this site,  
> http://www.artofmanliness.com/2008/08/24/the-history-and-nature-of-man-friendships/  
> which explains male friendships of the time. So while Spot and Race were in a relationship, they were also best friends, and in their culture unless someone actually caught them having sex, they could play off just about anything else.


	3. pulse of my heart

“You won it?"

Race nodded. “Yep.”

“A building?" Spot looked around the warehouse.

“Yep.” Race looked around too, but was less than impressed. He hadn’t been happy when it had gone into the pot and he certainly wasn’t happy he won it. He should’ve just thrown the game. What the hell was he going to do with a building? A building in Brooklyn no less, he looked to his Spot and then how Spot was admiring the empty room. He glanced around but knew it was just he and Spot, he slid closer, “you like tesoro*.”

Spot smirked, grabbing Race and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Yeah, I like.” It was close to the lodging house and the dock. It wasn’t a large building and it was run down but the brick walls and metal roof were solid and there were actual rooms on the upper level.

Race grinned and leaned in. “You wanna play me for it.”

Spot smiled warmly. “Name the game.”

Race closed the distance and whispered.

Spot closed his eyes. “Oh-yeah, I think I’d be willing to go double or nothin.”

Three hours later Spot was the proud owner of a building and Race was just proud.

nnnnnnnnn

Jack shook his head as Racetrack walked away. He looked over to Crutchie. “Can you believe that, a whole building and he just gives it to Conlon.”

Crutchie doubted Racetrack ‘gave’ the building away. Race wasn’t the type to give anything away even to his best friend. Then again maybe he did. Race seemed to care more about Spot than he did anything else.

“You wait until I see Spot, talk about moving up in the world, his own place. Damn.”

Crutchie nodded along. He’d happily sit all night and listen to Jack. He loved Jack anyway he could get him, but this was his favorite. Jack happily laughing, sharing stories and goofing off. The part of Jack he wasn’t sure was ever going to come back after the refuge. He hadn’t been there with Jack and Racetrack when they’d been sent in. He sometimes wishes he had so he could understand what happened to them. Racetrack had only been in a month or so before Conlon had gotten the money together to pay his fine and retrieved his best friend.

Crutchie hadn’t seen Racetrack until he’d been out another month. Spot had kept him close. Race hadn’t even moved back into the lodging house until Jack had come back a month later.

They’d been different though.Everyone noticed the big things, the nightmares and barely hidden pain. None of them asked though, they all had their hidden pains and gave Jack and Race all the time and space they needed to bury theirs.

Crutchie though noticed the little things mostly in Jack but it was because of Jack he noticed it Racetrack at all. The flinches, the slight standoffish body language, Crutchie knew what it meant. He just didn’t want to think about it, not about Jack. The idea of someone hurting Jack made him angry and he was never angry. He had never even thought about hating another person until he hated the person that made Jack curl up in his bed and beg them to stop in his nightmares. It was that person who taught him hate, someone he’d never even met.

NNNNN –Sometime ago

Spot didn’t dare go with them. He’d just chosen two of his most trusted, gave them the money and told them to bring him Racetrack. He couldn’t have gone; what if he couldn’t control himself at the sight of Race? What if Race was angry with him for taking so long? He’d done everything he could to get him back as fast as he could. What if this forced separation made Race not want him no more? All he’d done, since Racetrack had been taken in, was think of ways to get the money together to get him back. Seven dollars was a lot of money and Spot wasn’t exactly proud of all the things he’d done to get it, but that was in the past, cause Race would be here soon.

Billy boy glanced up to the ceiling, Spot was gonna wear a hole straight through the floor with all that pacing. He sighed and looked to his cards. Hopefully things would get better once Racetrack was back around. None of them had realized how much Race had defused Spot’s temper. The boss had been an unholy terror in the time Racetrack had been off the streets. Hell, Billy boy had donated some of his own money to getting Racetrack back. Their boss was the hardest around but none of them wanted all that focused fury pointed at their own. “I’ll take 2.” He put his cards down and when no one replied Billy boy looked around the table. No one was paying the table any mind and Billy boy followed their eyes for the reason.

Georgie and Porgie were back and no one was quite sure how to take their tepid looks. However no one questioned as they came into the room and stood aside waiting. Billy boy nearly didn’t recognize the small boy in the large clothes as Racetrack. Billy boy was used to Race’s presence filling in for his lack of physical size, kinda like the Boss’s did. However the 9 year old in the chair across from Billy boy looked older and tougher than Race.

However Billy boy barely got a look as the twins hustled Racetrack out of the room and to the side stairs that led up to Spot’s private room.

Billy boy turned back to his cards and hoped this would ease Brooklyn’s woes.

Spot stopped pacing at the knock, “come in.”

Georgie filled his doorway, “Here you go Spot.”

Spot nodded and waved them away, shutting the door before he even looked at Race. Once he was sure they were safe he finally trusted himself to look. Race was so pale, his eyes so big and dark, like he’d been sick and stayed up the whole month and 16 days he’d been gone. He looked thinner and something in Spot just broke. What had those fucking bastards done to his Race? “Race?”

He stepped closer to the boy, who just looked lost. He raised his hand and almost dropped it when he noticed how bad it was shaking. He didn’t though and Race shuttered when Spot’s hand touched his face. Spot nearly pulled back when Race looked at him and said, “Spot.”

Just saying his name seemed to awaken something in Race and he moved, launching himself into Spot, who gladly wrapped around him. Race was in his arms and Spot cried softly as Race shook and cried loudly in his arms. They sank to the floor and Spot rocked him, kissing any part he could reach. “I’m so sorry,” Spot whispered. He knew what happened in those places. He knew damn well what happened to boys like him and Race, those who looked too young and delicate. He knew what adults often wanted and it made him see red that his Race had to know too. “I’m so sorry acushla*.” He brushed Race’s hair and kissed his head and promised himself that they would pay, whoever had done this would pay. Spot would make sure of it.

Tesoro- Italian sweetheart, or treasure  
Acushla - An Irish word meaning darling (literally, pulse of my heart)


	4. lady luck's favorite son

Newsies

Crutchie really should’ve seen it. Jack had never needed a young cute face to sell papes before but he had wanted it so Crutchie helped make it happen. It wasn’t until later he realized that while Jack adored the kid (and who didn’t) it wasn’t working with Les that Jack really wanted. He figured it out the 6th time David had been mentioned in a 10 minute conversation and Jack had just met the kid two days before.

Crutchie didn’t have a chance to do anything about it though, cause then the strike started and he found himself in the refuge. Him being him, and not the type to let anything get him down, he used the opportunity to learn anything he could. He learned too much, though thankfully not 1st hand. It seemed he wasn’t pretty enough to be marketable. Warden musta thought no man would give up good coin to have his cock sucked by a tall gangly gimp.

By the time the smoke had cleared and Crutchie was home again Jack and David were so entwined it was Jack and David. Unless David was at home he was with Jack and if David wasn’t with Jack, then Jack was talking about him so much he might have well been there the whole time. Crutchie had never seen Jack like this. It made something in his chest hurt, watching Jack, watching David.  
  
Newsies

Jack hated hosting newsie get togethers. He couldn’t have it at the lodging house so he had find somewhere to put it. Unlike Spot who had his own damn building. Then he had to get people together to fit the empty building out with some tables and chairs, well it carried on forever, and Jack just didn’t have the patience for it. Another reason he thanked God he had Crutchie and now David in his life.

Hosting also meant he had to actually pay attention to the shit happening around him instead of having a good time. Well sort of, he tried to compromise his own good time as little as possible. Besides he had David, who compromised his own good time enough for the two of them.

It was running about mid-way though this affair and Jack was feeling pretty good. Queens had brought in some booze as their gift and Jack had enjoyed a good part of it. He was sitting next to Mouth, trying and mostly failing to teach him poker. Across the table from them Race chewed on his cigar, glanced at his cards, surrounded by winnings. Jack didn’t play against Race, as far as Jack knew none of the ‘leaders’ did. It just wasn’t a good idea to lose your shirt in front of your boys. He tipped his head back and blew cigarette smoke towards the ceiling.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

The words weren’t loud yet cut through dozens of yelling boys leaving silence as everyone looked towards the voice.  
Jack sat up. He knew that voice and that tone didn’t bode well for the peace. “Fuck Spot.” He looked over, from what Jack could tell a whole group had been playing dice but now Spot and larger boy, which Jack was thrilled to note was not one of his, stood and faced each other, while everyone else looked nervous.

David started to stand, not a good idea, Jack grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back into his seat. Spot barely tolerated David on a good day. He looked across the table, Race rolled his eyes. “Watch my stash and my cards ya bums.” Jack nodded, it was the least he could do. He glanced around the table and everyone looked away, all the same he nudged David, who gathered Race’s loot to their side.  
  
Jack leaned back, “Race’ll calm him down.”

David raised an eyebrow.

Crutchie, who hadn’t been playing but watching from close by, said. “If anyone can calm him down it’s Race and if Race can’t than it can’t be done.”

Jack nodded. That sounded about right. He looked across the room, where Race stood between the two boys. Racetrack faced Spot and spoke lowly, and while Spot glared at the other boy and didn’t look at Race, he nodded along with what Race said. Until Spot did look at Racetrack and said something, and whatever it was made Race paused then nod and at that moment Jack knew they were in trouble.

Racetrack gave a wicked grin and stepped aside, waving a hand forward, which was all the permission Spot needed. By the time Jack got there the other kid was on the ground, bleeding and not moving.

Jack rolled his eyes, shit, looked like Spot had just knocked him out and was satisfied as he didn’t move to hit him again.

Close up Jack thought it was a Bronx’s kid and that was confirmed when Nails checked on him.  
Nails stood, as the fallen boys’ friends gathered around him, “well he’s still alive, what the fuck was that Conlon?”

Spot scowled. “He needed a lesson in keeping his mouth shut so I gave it to him.”

The kids’ friends helped him sit-up as he started coughing, finally groaning and spitting a tooth onto the floor.

Nails shook his head. Button was going to have a hellva bruise, probably couldn’t work for at least a couple of days. Button spit blood. Nails sighed. He could accept that Button did have a big mouth and let this go or he could start something. Had it been any other borough he might of thought about starting something, but going to war with Brooklyn with Conlon at the helm was suicide. Conlon would probably have Manhattan on his side by default. He rolled his eyes, goddamn-it. There was really only one choice. He turned to his boys. “Get him up.”  


Button made it up mostly on his own, standing before him, Button met his eyes defiantly. Nails raised an eyebrow and Button dropped his eyes. “You running your mouth,” Button shrugged, “plan on doing it again?” Button shook his head. Nails inclined his head towards Brooklyn. Button scowled but said, “My mistake Conlon.”

“Goddamn straight.” Spot bit out. He looked around, “Clear off ya gawkers!”

Nails looked to his boys, “someone take him home.” He turned away, dismissing the other boys without a word, showing he didn’t approve of Button’s actions.

Everyone shifted and Jack wandered back to where David waited at the table. He slumped back into his chair and bummed a cigarette from Crutchie.

“I thought you said Race had it?” David asked casually.

Jack shrugged, trying to find his pleasant buzz again. “He does, until he doesn’t want to. You gotta remember Race can be a violent shit when it pleases him.”

David knew that but it was so easy to forget with how easy going Race was usually.  
  
Race spent a few more minutes at the dice and by the time he wandered towards the table, laughter, grins, and Spot followed him back.

Spot glanced at the chair next to Race’s and then slumped into it as it was quickly abandoned. Race rolled his eyes, gesturing towards David, who quickly shoved Race’s winnings across the table. Race straightened himself out as he said, “could someone maybe get his royal kingness a drink.”  


Spot took the first drink set in front of him and left the others for later. Jack reached across the table to nab one. Spot raised an eyebrow, “oh come on Spot.” Spot smirked and nodded as Jack picked a glass. Spot glanced over the rest of the glasses, found the one that was the cleanest, and placed it to Race’s right.  


David didn’t dare take a glass from Spot, the guy still scared him, but Jack was fair game. Race re-lit his cigar and gathered the cards from around the table. “Alright, Aces are high, kings are loaded,” he made a pointed glance between Jack and Spot, who even David had to admit were putting away a lot of liquor. Jack chuckled and Spot smirked and balanced on his chair’s back legs as he pushed Race’s drink closer. Race took the hint and took a deep drink of the hard liquor without a flinch or even a hitch in dealing and smoking.  


Spot lit a cigarette and watched Race count cards and read everyone at the table like a book. One day, when they were done being newsies, they’d probably make their living on Race’s claim of lady luck’s favorite son.  


Until then, “eh, one of yours grab me and Race more drinks.” 


	5. How much?

“The doctor won’t come unless we pay him.” Esther rung her hands.

David could see his mama mentally trying to find a way to get money. He knew she wouldn’t find it. They just didn’t have that kind of money. His papa was at the table, his head cradled by his one good hand, the other (still healing) lie limply.

“How much?”

They all looked to Jack, who squirmed under their attention. “What?” David had already dismissed the idea, wondering what they could do for Les and Sarah themselves.

“For da doctor, how much do you need for him to help them?” Jack looked between them and David looked to his parents.

Esther was distraught. “I wouldn’t think more than 10 dollars*.”

“Ten whole dollars?” David stopped himself from yelling but damn that was a lot of money. He felt so hopeless.

Jack stood up. “Ok.”

David knew he was confused and could tell he wasn’t the only one. “What do you mean?”

Jack shrugged. “I mean I can get it, but it might take me a couple of hours, less if I get help.”

David knew how Jack lived, knew he had a little saved but nothing like they needed. “How Jack?”

Jack glanced away with a shrug, “just something a few of us learned in the Refuge. It’s no big deal. If I can get Race to help, between the 2 of us, we’ll have the money tonight.”

David had no idea what Jack was talking about and it didn’t look like he was going to explain either. He wanted to be excited by the idea, but his parents looked so horrified and upset, he didn’t know what to think.

“Jack,” Esther came close, but Jack stepped back from her hand.

His parents shared a look and David just couldn’t understand it. How could they look so torn about getting help? He turned to Jack, “What are you doing? Can I help?” He was shocked with the quickness Jack shut down his offer, backed by his parents. Jack let David grab his arm. “What are you going to do?” He couldn’t imagine his parents allowing anything illegal, well at least not usually but Les and Sarah were real sick, so maybe what everyone but him knew wasn’t quite above the board.

Jack grinned, but it wasn’t a smile David liked, though he couldn’t really say why. “You’d be surprised how much people will pay to shut me and Race up.” He looked to David’s parents who seemed at a loss then back to David. “I’ll be back soon, you’ll see Davy.”

David wanted Les and Sarah well, he did, but it was really hard to let Jack leave. As soon as Jack left his mother retreated to the bathroom, David watched her go and looked to his father, who kicked out a chair. “Sit David.”  
  
David sighed. “I don’t understand.”

His father nodded. “I know and I’m glad for it. Jack is a good boy.”

David readily agreed. He’d always thought Jack was darn near perfect, but for his way of improving the truth.

A couple of hours later, David was checking on Les when he heard a soft knock on the door, it was late but his parents were still up and going towards the door when he came into the room. David walked up between his parents and just ahead of them opened the door. Jack was there smiling, but his smile made David flinch, there something brittle about it.

David quickly looked away, only now noticing Jack wasn’t alone. Spot leaned back against the wall across the hallway. He didn’t look happy either, cleaning the head of his cane with a rag. David thought at first Spot had blotches of paint on himself and the cane but soon realized it was blood. He swallowed thickly and looked to the other person, Race nodded at him, but didn’t really look at him as much as glance his way. He wasn’t sure, the light wasn’t that good, but it looked like Race had some bruises along his jaw line.

“Here,” he looked back to Jack, who pressed a handful of money into David’s hands.

David passed it on to his mother, who (like his father) couldn’t seem to look away from Spot and Race. David coughed and said, “Do you want to come in?”

Jack shook his head. “Na, we’re going to Medda’s.”

David raised an eyebrow. It was a little late for a show.

“She’s got a bathtub with running water.” Jack shrugged. “She said we could use it.”

He looked to Race, “Thank you.” He didn’t even know what they’d done, but Jack looked hurt by it, Race pained, and Spot murderous so it was something that deserved his thanks.

Race shrugged. “It’s alright. I like Les and Sarah. Hope it helps and they get better.” He pulled a cigar out of his pocket, fumbling with it until Spot took it from him and lit it smoothly, inhaling once before handing it back to Race.

David looked to Spot. He still couldn’t believe the King of Brooklyn was standing in his hallway.

Spot waved him off. “Don’t thank me. I didn’t do nothin that bothered me any. Hope the kid makes it. Let’s go.”

Race nodded towards David’s parents, who thanked him quietly but Race just shrugged and quickly joined Spot, who leaned towards the other boy, talking quietly. David remembered the day he realized beside Jack the only other Manhattan newsie Spot called by name was Racetrack. He also remembered the look Jack had given him when he’d mentioned it. Jack had treated him like an idiot but he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to know the two were long-time friends.

David looked back to Jack, who grinned and tightened some part of himself that made David feel farther from him though they hadn’t moved.

“Ah, I hope that’s enough. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jack pulled away and caught up with Race and Spot before they made it to the end of the hall.

David watched them go.

“David,”

He turned to see the money in his mother’s hands, but her face was so sad and upset. He looked to his papa, who sat heavily at the table. “There’s 12 dollars here.” His mother breathed out. She placed it on the table next to his father’s arm. He wouldn’t even look at it but he did raise his head. “Those boys are always welcome in our home David, at our table. He looked away. David understood something had happened and while he wasn’t sure what, he was sure he probably didn’t want to know.

Esther looked towards her husband and knew he wanted to know but was afraid to ask but she had to know. “Those boys, with Jack,”

David nodded, “Spot and Racetrack mama, you’ve seen Racetrack before.”

“Don’t Esther.” His papa interrupted. “It doesn’t matter.”

They shared a loaded look before his father looked away from her and to him. “Son, Spot and Racetrack how old are they?”

Ah, now David understood, his parents thought whatever they’d been up to that Race and Spot were too young for it. Everyone always thought that. He waved of their concern, if anyone could handle anything it was Race and Spot. “They’re a lot older than they look.”

His mother didn’t look convinced and truthfully he didn’t know exactly how old they were. Hell he wasn’t sure that Spot and Race knew their exact ages. “They’re at least 15.”

His father looked away, while his mother mentioned checking on Les and Sarah before leaving the room.

“Papa,” David waited until papa looked his way. He couldn’t stand the look on his father’s face sadness and pain, some hopeless, but the weakness really got to David. He reached over and put his hand over papa’s. He didn’t know what they’d done but, “Papa, I know they look really young but Jack, Spot, and Race are the smartest and toughest people I know. Spot wouldn’t let anyone hurt them.”

His papa patted his hand. “Go help your mother son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Average yearly income around 1900 ranged in the $250. dollar mark. 10.00 was a lot of money in those terms.  
> Denton, I surmise, came from a privileged family and with no one to support (no wife nor kids) could afford to spend 50. dollars on bail money whereas most could never dream of it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don’t what know happened. It started off as a small thing but then grew into 20 something pages. A friend advised me that it’s emotionally overwhelming in one go and so I am splitting this night into 3 parts. I’m also taking the advice to heavily advise anyone sensitive to rape, child abuse, and any combination of the two to skip the next three chapters. It shouldn’t affect your knowledge of the plot.

Crutchie knew something was wrong the moment Jack walked into the lodging house. He said hello to everyone who greeted him with a big grin, but Crutchie could easily see he was distracted and upset. He stood up and Jack looked his way. “Where’s Race?”

“Where’s Spot?” Boot’s replied, without looking up from his ring of marble players.

Jack nodded and ran a hand through his hair, “Yeah, okay.” He turned to go without a smart crack about Race remembering where he lived and without giving any indication of what was wrong. 

Crutchie pulled himself from his chair and grabbed up his crutch, “Jack, wait up,” he started after him.

Jack paused, “look Crutchie, I’s got ta get over to Brooklyn and talk to Race.”

Crutchie reached him, “except they’re not in Brooklyn. Race had a game tonight.”

Jack slumped against the doorway, “fuck,” he straightened, “it’s okay, maybe I don’t need him.”

Except Crutchie could tell he really did.

“How’s Les?” Snitch asked.

“Bad.” Jack shortly answered, turning towards the door, “Les and Sarah need a doctor.”

Crutchie frowned. Anger bit at the back of Crutchie’s mind. The last time this happened it was because they needed a doctor. Crutchie had promised himself then and there that he would never allow this for him. “You mean they need money.”

Jack shrugged. “Yeah.”

Now all the older boys started exchanging looks over the heads of the younger. Snitch bit his lip, next to him Mush said, “Jack how much do dey need, maybe we’s,”

Jack shook his head, “it’s more than we’s got, 10 dollars.”

Crutchie took a sharp breath that was a lot of money and more then all of them had put together. 

Mush didn’t give up though, “how soon do they need it? Maybe we’s can,”

Jack shook his head. “There’s no time, they’re too sick.” He ran though his hair aggregated and ready to be done with it already. “Look I’s gotta go.”

“You gonna find Race?” Mush asked. Race was the only one Jack would tolerate when this came up.

“Don’t have all night to look for ‘im.” Though Jack didn’t look to confident about not having back up and going it alone. 

Crutchie wasn’t having it. “No Jack. You are not going to the Bowery alone.”

Now even the youngest and/or oblivious kid knew something was up, Crutchie didn’t usually just bark at Jack, though it had happened before. Then the Bowery began to register and questions started appearing.

Jack wanted to be gone before anyone started questioning, though a glance to Snitch seemed to have the other boy hushing them down. He appealed to Crutchie, “But,”

Crutchie scowled if this had to be done, he wasn’t letting him go alone. “Fine, I know where Race is, let’s go.”

“You can just tell me where he is?” He didn’t understand why Crutchie was getting upset. 

“Let’s go Jack.” Crutchie moved around him and was half-way down the stairs when Jack moved past him and then waited for him at the door. 

They didn’t say much as they walked. Crutchie appreciated Jack walking with him instead of ahead, he led them towards Queens, happy he’d asked Race where he’d be tonight. “Jack,”

“No Crutchie. I spent all my savings during the strike, those little uns’ didn’t have nothin’ saved and I couldn’t have them sleeping on the streets. Davy needs the money. Do you want Les and Sarah to die?” Crutchie paused to glare and Jack dropped his head. “Ok, maybe that wasn’t fair.”

“Maybe?” Crutchie started walking again. 

“It wasn’t fair. I know you don’t want them to die.”

Crutchie nodded. “What about Spot?”

Jack shrugged. “Spot knows the score. He won’t be happy, but he won’t stop Race from going.”

Crutchie hated seeing Jack this tightly wound up. Gearing himself up to do something he hated to do. “I could,”

“NO!” Jack froze, “no,” he started walking again but Crutchie could tell he was horrified and honestly it hurt that Jack didn’t trust him with this. Maybe (for once) Jack could tell he’d upset his friend or maybe he felt some need to explain but he rubbed his face, “Sometimes we’s gotta run Crutchie and uh, you know,” he waved a hand at the crutch. 

Sometimes Crutchie really hated the crutch, not often, but at times like this he cursed it. He shook it off like the excuse he knew it really was. “You wouldn’t take me if I ran track.”

Jack shrugged and then nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why Race?”

Jack kicked a few rocks, dived around some barrows, kicked dirt. “Cause he’s seen me like that and I’ve seen him and we keep it for each other ya know, between us.”

Crutchie bit down on the tangle of emotions rattling his ribs. He despised this, he hurt for them and he was so very angry. But in the end, “Okay Jack,” in the end he couldn’t make it any harder on Jack than it had to be, “Let’s find Racetrack.”

They found Race playing poker in an alley and they really only found him because Spot was kinda hard to miss and he was standing over the group surrounding the box they were playing on. They waited as Race finished up his hand. Spot studied them with a tilted head and narrowed keen eyes. It was times like this that reminded Crutchie that Spot was a lot of things (scary, fast, violent) but dumb was not one of them. 

“What’s got you all hyped up Jacky-boy?”

Jack bounced on his feet. “Nothin’ just need to talk to Race.”

Spot gestured them to the side and further from the action, quieter, but harder to hear over the others. Jack and Crutchie follow though both were wary. “You better start talkin’ Kelly.” Spot scowled. He used the wall to light his match, Jack and Crutchie exchanged looks, as Spot dipped his head to light his cigarette. Spot glanced over to Race before looking to them. “I’m waitin’.”

Jack explained and more he spoke the more serious Spot’s face got, by the time Jack dwindled off, Spot’s lips were a small line around the cigarette he was strangling. 

“He ain’t gotta do nothin’ Spot, just watch out for me, I swear.” Jack whispered.

Spot raised an eyebrow, “and what’s Race gonna do for you if something goes wrong. Neither ones of you are big, hows he gonna stop,”

“He ain’t,” Jack’s didn’t look at them, but the wall where his finger traced the brick. “He ain’t gotta stop nobody, just um help me home.”

Crutchie wanted to scream and that moment, just a second, he didn’t care if Les and Sarah did die if it meant this didn’t have to happen. 

“Davy needs it Spot.” Jack hated to sound desperate, he swallowed it.

“Damn Mouth ain’t been nothin’ but trouble since you grabbed ‘em up Jacky. Alight, I ain’t even going to pretend to tell Race what to do, if he wants to help you,” he shrugged.

Of course Race wanted to help, “and here I blew all that money on that damn horse.” He laughed but his face was pale and his laugh a little shrill.  
Jack put a hand on Race’s shoulder. “You ain’t gotta.” 

Race smirked. “Come on, let’s go.”

Crutchie watched them go, trepidation and hurt churning his stomach. 

Next to him, Spot rubbed his cigarette out on the bricks, “Stop by Medda’s, we’ll be by there after the Mouth’s place. Ask to use that fancy tub of ‘ers and if she minds guests for the night.” 

Crutchie shrugged. “She never minds when it’s Jack or Racetrack. We? You goin’ with?”

Spot shrugged. “Beat it. I’s got ‘dis.”

Overwhelming relief nearly put Crutchie on the ground, watching Brooklyn’s King wander after them gave Crutchie hope.

Next part to come. I would love some input, thank you.


	7. “You selling?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the longest night since Boots had that month in a night in Brooklyn.

There were only three things to be doing in the Bowery. You were buying, selling, or minding your own damn business and usually it wasn’t hard to tell which was which. Spot was a pro of mind your own damn business and people didn’t even glance at him as he went by. It didn’t take long for Jack and Race to garnish some attention. Spot wasn’t close enough to hear what was said but he moved closer as Jack and Race entered an alley with two men. He slid into the alley, hiding in the shadows of rain barrows.

Jack stepped back with a raised arm when the man reached for him. “Not till I see the money.”

The man snarled but dipped into his pocket and then flashed some money. “Good enough? Now come here kid.”

Jack hunched up but moved close enough to be manhandled. He caught himself against the wall, trying not to cringe when the man moved in close. Jack didn’t fight the hand that grabbed his face and tilted it towards the light. “Damn darling you’re pretty, how much for a fuck?”

Jack’s breath came faster and he knew his face was turning red, but maybe he could just do this and be done. “10 dollars.”

“Oi-we, you are pricey.” He seemed to think about it, turning Jack’s face back and forth. He leaned in and sniffed beneath his ear and Jack shivered in revulsion. “Oh liked that didn’t you, fuck you even smell good.” He licked Jack’s check and Jack tried not to throw-up, “you taste so sweet. Alright 10 it is.”

He spun Jack, who barely caught himself before his face scrapped the brick. Jack shook, trying to fight the instinct to break free. 

“Ah are you cold pretty baby? Don’t worry Phil’s gonna warm you up.” 

Across the ally, Race stayed more than arm’s length from the guy’s buddy, who stared at him. Race tried not to look at him or meet his eye. 

“You selling?”

Race bit his lip. There was no way he was selling anything to this guy, he was too big and Race could sense the meanness in him. Race could spot those types a mile off. He already wasn’t keen on the guy with Jack so there was no way. He had a choice this time and he was going to fucking exercise it. “No.”

“How old are you? 11? 12?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Race could see the guy look between him and what was happening between his buddy and Jack. “You know I’s could give you 10 dollars too, if you’s earn it. You’s a real cute little boy.” The man leaned closer and reached out, sliding a finger down Race’s cheek. 

Race took another step away. 

Jack had to use both hands to keep himself from being shoved into the wall. The man, Phil, stood directly behind him, leaning in, with one hand opening his trousers and the other rubbing his stomach. “Oh pretty baby, your skin is so soft, god I love you young ones. Feel so good, you got some oil.”

Jack hadn’t thought of that, hadn’t thought it would go like this but $10.00 all in one go was too much to back away from.

“Oh well then, suck.”

Jack nearly gagged on the fingers forced into his mouth. 

“You’s gonna want those real wet sweetheart.”

Jack knew what it was like without fingers and was thankful Phil bothered. He let his mind go fuzzy thinking about Davy’s face when he got the money. What he was going to show David the next time they could go somewhere. He thought about the last show they saw together at Medda’s. Crutchie had saved them a balcony and the three of them had the whole thing to themselves. 

Phil thrust against him, until he pulled his fingers free with a moan. “You are really good at that pretty boy,” Phil slid Jack’s pants down. 

Jack concentrated on not being in his head, even still he cringed, as a thick finger forced itself into him. He blinked rapidly and his breath hitched.

“Holy Mary, have you ever done this before? You’re so tight, gonna squeeze my finger off. Fuck pretty boy this gonna be so good.” 

Jack dropped his head. He was scared. He knew how much this just hurt. He wanted to stop. He didn’t want to do this anymore. A second finger shoved into him and he couldn’t stop the yelp and hoped the guy wouldn’t notice the tears.

Then Race screamed and it took Jack a second to understand what and who, he tried to get away, but Phil held him down with a forearm against his upper back and fingers twisting harshly inside him even as Phil called out. “You couldn’t have waited until I was in this one, now he’s all tense and fighting.” He laughed, “I’m going tear him up something proper.” He shoved forcefully.  
It really hurt and Jack cried out as he twisted, trying to get away, terrified cause he didn’t hear Race.

Race had been paying attention to Jack and not the man’s friend until he hit the wall, he yelled, the man’s palm covered his mouth, while his fingers wrapped around Race’s jaw line and squeezed. “Little boys shouldn’t say no to adults that ask nicely.” Race fought, but it was a joke, the guy didn’t even notice. Race’s feet weren’t even touching the ground, they kicked uselessly. The guy started on his clothes.

Spot’s eyes sparked as he left shadows, he wanted to go right to Race, but he knew their only chance was if Jack had the opportunity to hold his own for a second. He silently shifted up as he pulled his cane. He wacked the guy holding Jack on the back of head, the man fell back, yelling and grabbing his head. Jack didn’t waste a second, turning and punching. 

Spot turned fluidly and in a practiced move, released the head of his cane and pulled the knife inside free. He didn’t give the man holding HIS Race a chance and stabbed him in the throat, pulling Race free as he sliced. The man fell to the ground, blood gurgling out of his mouth as he choked on his own fluid. Spot didn’t pay him any attention and turned to the other guy who had pulled himself from the ground, but Spot wasn’t giving this guy the chance to raise the alarm or even get close. He whistled and Jack ducked back as Spot reached down, grabbed a piece of brick, and threw it at the man’s head. The man reeled back and Spot followed slicing. The man went to his knees, and then without fan-fair face first to the ground. Jack immediately fixed his clothes and commenced kicking the man’s still body.

Spot left him to it and went to Race. “Race- acushla, you alright?” Spot checked him over head to toe. “Talk to me Race.”

Race blinked and focused on him, “he ripped me clothes Spot.”

“I know.” Spot glanced back Jack, who was going through Phil’s pockets. He brushed a kiss over Race’s cheek.

“I thought I could say no,”

“You could. He just didn’t listen, but I made ‘im.”

Race looked at the still body and smiled, leaning into Spot, believing his partner was really there. “Yeah, my hero.”

“Always and don’t you forget it.” Spot smirked, so happy Race was okay and already throwing off the scare.

“Goddamn-it.” 

They looked towards Jack, who was by the guy who tried to hurt Race, kicking his body. “They didn’t have nothin’! Just two damned dollars wrapped around some paper!” Jack was incensed, and the bastards were already dead. He raged, stomping, and shaking. “I let him and he,” Jack stopped, sniffling, but not crying, “What do we do now?”

Spot took a deep breath, “come on.”

Spot led them out the other side of the ally, opposite the way they’d entered. Thankfully they were pretty docile, following him without a lot of questions. Race stayed close, where Spot liked him and Kelly limped but kept up with them as Spot led them easily though the streets. This may not be Brooklyn but Spot knew the Bowery well. 

He stopped at the end of an ally several away from the first. He used the rain barrow to clean himself up. He turned to Race, “come ‘ere.” He washed Race off with the clean portion of the shirt he’d have to leave behind. Thankfully he’d been wearing more than one. He washed the slick out of Race’s hair and handed him the shirt, ‘ere, dry your hair and put your hat in your back pocket.” He waved Kelly closer, “Give me your outer shirt, it’s got blood on it, we’s gonna ‘ave to leave it ‘ere.” Jack nodded and handed it to him, Spot got a clear corner wet, “here wipe your face.” He rolled and stuffed his own hat in his back pocket and messed up his hair letting it curl around his face. 

He looked them over, they looked upset and scared, but determined. He cleaned his knife with the shirts before hiding them and re-fixing his cane. “Okay, I need you two to keep your traps shut. Alright, just agree wit’ whatever I say. Alright?”

Race nodded, with his hair dried and no longer slicked back he looked even younger, his sweet eyes just made Spot wink at him for the smile that curled back. He looked to Jack, who seemed quietly hurting and out of sorts. “You hanging in there, Kelly?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, Spot.”

Spot supposed it would have to do. He led them down the street and to a red side door. Spot knocked twice quickly and then three times slowly. The door opened and both Race and Jack took a step back at the sight of the biggest darkest man they’d ever seen. Race was pretty sure the man could rest his elbow comfortably on Spot’s head. The man frowned down on them until his eyes lit on Spot. 

“Mikey, oh-ho little Mikey boy come by to see us. Come in- come in little ones. Mister’s gonna be thrilled to see you.” 

“Hey-ya Midnight, how’s business?” 

“Busy.” Midnight gave them plenty of room to pass, but Race and Jack still stuck close. Normally Spot would be a little annoyed but he was having a hard time getting mad at them right now. Jack and Race jumped when Midnight whistled, Spot shook his head and briefly squeezed Race’s hand. He led them into the hallway, just as woman came bustling up, adjusting her corset to cover an escaping nipple. Spot chuckled as Race and Jack tried to look and yet look like they weren’t staring at the lady in her corset and stockings. Spot chuckled. He couldn’t wait to see their faces when she turned around, if she was wear those fancy French knickers.

“Mikey,” she smiled at him then looked to Race, leaning down to him, “ah, what a little cutie-pie, what’s your name honey?”

“Joey.” Spot said before Race could open his mouth.

“Your Joey?”

Spot nodded and laced his fingers with Race’s, “yeah, my Joey.”

She covered her mouth as she giggled. “Oh you two are the sweetest.” She looked to Jack, “And who are you pretty?”

Jack paled, “I’m not, I’m not pretty.” He shook his head. “I’m not.”

Race grabbed him and Jack flinched until he realized who it was and moved closer, wrapping an arm around Race’s shoulders, anchoring himself. The woman drew back, “Ah, I see.” All her early laughter gone, she looked at Jack sadly, before looking back to Spot. “The Mister and Missus are in the proper parlor Mikey.”

She turned around and Spot bit his tongue not to laugh as Race and Jack forgot their problems at the sight of her creamy ass. “Wowzer.” Race whispered, while Jack nodded.

She heard him, glanced over her shoulder and smiled, giving them an extra wiggle before she was out of sight.

“Come on.” Spot remembered where the proper parlor was and knew customers weren’t allowed back there. He led them quickly through, even if nothing really happened downstairs, Spot didn’t trust it the way his night was going. He found the right door, listened for a second then knocked. 

“Come.” A man’s voice called back. 

Spot glanced between the two and pointed to the bench set against the wall, “sit, do not leave that bench, either of you. Hear?”

They nodded and headed towards it as Spot went into the room.

The bench was really cushioned but Jack still found himself trying to get comfortable.

“Hurts?” Race whispered.

“Yeah. What’s he doin’?”

Race shrugged, “No telling. It could be anything, but he’ll get you those bucks that’s for sure.”

A bell rang and several people showed up and went through the same door Spot had entered. They left moments later in a hurry, shortly afterwards Spot appeared. He stopped in front of the bench. 

“Still want your money?”

Jack thought of the Jacobs’ family and ignored the pain. “Yeah.”

Spot jerked his head. “Alright. Come on.” Spot led them upstairs and looked around a second before figuring out the way. He didn’t pause again, they went past several rooms, all numbered until the last at the dead end of the hallway. Spot threw open the door, waving them in. 

Race looked around the room impressed, he didn’t dare touch anything. He glanced at his hands to make sure they were clean and for the most part they were. He’d never seen anything so fancy, not even at Medda’s. The whole room was done up in dark red and gold, thick curtains, a huge bed with a thick blankets, there was carpet and Race could feel himself sinking into it. There were small tables filled with stuff, a liquor cabinet and wardrobe. It looked like somewhere he’d only glimpsed of in the papes.

Jack whistled as he spun around slowly looking the room over. “Ain’t this somethin’.” He bet even Pulitzer didn’t have it this good.

Spot didn’t seem fazed but Race saw him run his hand over the back of a chair as he passed and then carefully opening the drawer of the wardrobe. That was as close as Spot would get to appreciation. Spot grabbed a pile of white from the drawer, “here” he tossed a bundle to each of them.

The material was the thickest softest stuff Race had ever felt, but when he shook it out and looked at the night gown he didn’t know what to think. “What?” He hadn’t worn a night gown since the refuge and he didn’t want to wear one now. He looked to Jack, who held up the same and looked at it with the same apprehension that Race felt.

Spot shrugged. “Put it on.”

Jack re-bundled the cloth. “Spot, it’s just, the refuge, and ah,”

Race dropped his onto the very expensive, red cushioned chair beside him. He didn’t even look at the thing, though it was softer and thinker than any material he’d ever touched, it was just the idea of the nightgown. It was what everyone was made to wear before going to bed and it brought back really bad memories. He could feel the hands sliding beneath and nearly threw up before he quickly thought about something else.

Though his face must have shown something as Spot swiftly moved to stand in front of him, hands on his shoulders, pressing carefully. “I would never let anyone hurt you, you know that right?”

Considering Spot had actually killed someone for him only an hour ago Race believed him. He nodded.

“You’s trust me, right?”

Race nodded.

Spot turned. “Jack?”

Jack swallowed and looked away, “Yeah Spot I trust you.”

“Put them on.” Spot ordered, “unless you’s don’t want the moola then we’re done.” He walked across the room to grab his up.

Jack sighed. “I’m not washing the blood out of it.”

Race nodded. “Me either.” He remembered leaning over a tub of freezing water him and Jack elbow to elbow, never able to get the blood gone enough and being beaten for it.

“There isn’t going to be any.” Spot answered even and low.

“There’s always blood.” Race answered without thinking and looked away from the chair and to Spot, who looked so angry. Spot stalked towards him and for a brief second Race thought about stepping back, but would never, could never do that to Spot. He could never hurt Spot by implying he didn’t trust him. He trusted Spot more than anybody.

“Kelly, I’m gonna ask for your word and if you break it you’ll be like ‘dos bastards in da’ ally.” 

Jack looked confused but readily agreed.

Spot reached out and carefully brushed the bruises Race could feel forming on his neck and face. “No blood, no hitting, no hurting. I promise.” He leaned forward and brushed a kiss across Race’s lips.

“Oh,” Jack said from behind them, “how come I didn’t guess, uh, just never saw that one.”

“And you still haven’t.” Spot replied, “and if I hear different…”

“You won’t Spot. I wouldn’t. All that stuff you said,” Spot turned to see Jack, biting his lip, looking both hopeful and hiding frightened, “does it, I mean the hurting and,”

“No one’s gonna hurt you either Kelly.”

Jack’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Oh okay. Then why we gotta,” he lifted the nightgown.

Spot rolled his eyes, “I didn’t say we weren’t going to earn the money I just said no one was going to bled or hurt over it. So either put it on or we can leave.”

“I’m putting.” Jack started pulling off his clothes.

Spot turned back to Race. “You’s ain’t gotta, me and Jack can handle ‘dis.”

Race blinked and looked to the third white bundle, “why?”

Spot smirked. “I kind-a got to pay for the clean-up they made of that mess in the ally.”

The mess that Race knew was mostly his fault, he shoulda been paying attention. There was no way he was leaving Spot fixing his mess and Jack needed him. “I’m alright Spot.” He reached out a hand and grabbed the bundle and knew he’d made the right choice when he could read the relief on Spot’s face. It wasn’t anything anyone else would have noticed, but Race wondered what it meant. 

Jack thought about anything but what he was wearing. It was really soft though and thick, the ones in the refuge were all so thin and cold, this wasn’t anything like that. The carpet under his feet though, he’d never felt anything like it before, he curled his toes into it. He remembered what Race looked like in a nightgown and really didn’t want to see it again. 

“Jack, come on.”

Jack looked up, and yep Race still looked like a kid with big fearful brown eyes. He looked so small sitting on that big bed. He looked at Spot and couldn’t look away, he’d never seen Spot lookin anything but like Brooklyn’s leader. This, this he didn’t look any older than Race. He knew they were the same size. He had eyes, but that had never really registered before. He had never noticed how big and blue Spot’s eyes were. He almost looked like a regular kid. 

The door started to open and Jack flew across the room to sit next to Spot, perhaps a little behind him. 

Race could see Jack shaking, biting his lip white, next to him Spot tensed up, it wasn’t anything visual but he felt it, which made Race more scared than he was. 

The door opened without fan-fair and man with light brown hair, glasses, and rolled sleeves on his dress shirt came into the room. Race would place him at about Denton’s height and build so only a head taller than Jack more so for him and Spot. The man looked at them but he wasn’t sneering nor was he drunk or angry.

The man nodded to them but turned away, going towards the liquor cabinet. “You weren’t kidding, you did make quite the bloody mess but we have it all to rights again.” He looked back and got out four glasses. “How about some whiskey?” He smiled at them. “I’ve just received this lovely bottle from Ireland. I think you’ll really like it.” He brought over a fine crystal decanter and tumblers over on a tray and filled the tumblers. “Let’s discuss a few things my lovelies. I am not going to hurt you nor allow anyone else. You are always safe within my houses. I allow some anonymity within the house, but I do not tolerate lies to me. You will tell me the truth, even if you must tell me to stop or that you don’t like it, do we understand each other?”

Race looked to Spot and when he nodded an agreement Race quickly did the same, but he didn’t feel that bad about it considering Jack had waited too.

Jack noticed his hand was shaking and tried to stop it. Spot’s wasn’t shaking at all and Race’s only a little, hoping it helped he tossed the drink back. The man refilled it and Jack was grateful, not only did it calm his nerves but it was the best tasting stuff he’d ever tried. He tried to sip more like Race and Spot.

Race had never seen fine crystal before and the way the light played off the cuts fascinated him. Regular glass just didn’t do the same thing. The top of the bottle looked like a mix of colors twisting and turning. He couldn’t look away from it, it was just distraction his mind needed. He looked away when the man’s hand covered the top. “Like that do you,” he pulled the top, “this too is from Ireland, Waterford, Ireland actually, handcrafted, by a master crystal craftsman.” He examined the top and then twisted, separating the crystal from the silver topper. “Here.” 

Race traded the tumbler for the topper. It was heavier than Race expected, he twisted it, catching the light. He was fascinated, watching the patterns of colors on the white of his nightgown. Race didn’t even notice everyone’s eyes on him so enamored by the shapes and colors. 

“That particular piece was crafted by William Penrose about a hundred years ago. Each piece is unique. There is no other crystal with this cut anywhere else in the world and none that hold this clarity and shine. Lift it to the light and look through it.”

Race did as he was asked and gasped. He spun the top looking though where the silver had been attached, watching as the light made shapes, the shapes changing as he turned it. 

“That’s called a kaleidoscope.” He stood and went to his liquid cabinet, where he spent a moment moving things around, returning with two more tops already pulled free of the silver stops. “Now these are a little older so they don’t have the same clarity, but both still have a very impressive kaleidoscope.” He handed one to Spot and one to Jack and neither wasted a moment trading their empty tumblers for the toppers and looking through them. “Now because each of these are shaped differently the kaleidoscopes will be different.” 

“Damn Marcus,” Spot muttered, turning his slowly. “These gotta be real pricey and you broke ‘em so we could stare at ‘um.” He didn’t stop looking though.

“They’re beautiful, unique, much more than they appear, adapting and changing to how they’re turned, I can’t think of better owners. Also, yes, they’re very very expensive so don’t show them off.”

Spot lowered his and placed it on the bed. Race lowered it but still clutched it in his palm. Jack lowered his with quickness and offered it back. “We’s can’t, please, don’t.”

Marcus frowned with confusion, “But why ever not?”

Jack was near tears, “please,” in his experience no adult ever gave you anything without extracting a terrible price. He couldn’t imagine what he’d have to do for something worth so much more than he was. He already hurt and knew he was probably already bleedin and likely to get a beating for that on top of everything, no matter what Spot said. Adults did not like you bleeding on everything no matter if they were the cause or not. He just wanted to get this done, get his money and get back to Crutchie and Davy. Just the thought of being near one of them, made him ache to leave. 

Race had seen Jack at this point before frustrated, tired and hurting. He placed his crystal on the bed. They needed to get this done before Jack or Spot lost their temper. 

“Surely you’ve received gifts before?” 

Spot laughed generally amused. “Marcus people are not in the habit of giving street trash gifts. So no.”

Marcus stood, the chair crashing behind him and Race internally sighed. He looked down at the crystal and wished he’d never seen it. 

Marcus took Spot’s face in hand and Race tensed, he couldn’t watch someone hit Spot, he couldn’t. However Spot didn’t react other than to reach out and pat Race’s leg, comforting him. Spot didn’t pulled back when Marcus gently shook his chin. “Spot, Sean, you are not trash. You are brilliant, resourceful, and breathtaking.” He looked between them. “Please keep them. You won’t have to pay me for them in any way. You are worth so much more than these rocks. Throw them out the window for all I care.”

“He knows your name?” Jack said harshly. He didn’t know what to do, as Marcus pressed the crystal into his hand with a squeeze.

“No lies, Jack. I won’t call you Francis because I know you don’t like that name. You are worth more than any number of these rocks. You could leave right now and take this with you, trade it for the money you needed and more, and I would never ask you for anything.” 

Adults didn’t talk to Jack like this and he didn’t dare test what Marcus said. Well sometimes Medda spoke nice to him but Jack didn’t know how to react then either. The only thing that made sense was Marcus was being nice so they would do what he wanted and it was nice. He could almost pretend Marcus meant it. 

He reached out and Race tried not to flinch as Marcus brushed his hand, squeezing his fingers. Race didn’t pull back though he wanted to, he didn’t like feeling how small his hands were in an adults. Marcus quickly released him, picking up the crystal and putting it into his palm. “Racetrack, don’t you see how absolutely wonderful you are?” Race didn’t listen to the man. Adults always said too much and usually lied, so he just didn’t listen. He read people and Marcus wasn’t going to hurt them, wasn’t angry at them. That was enough for him. Though he was kind-a impressed most adults when they learned his first name really was Racetrack used Anthony his middle name instead. However they had to work in the morning and Marcus was being too nice and he was ready to go. 

“Marcus, can we just do what you want now?” Spot asked. They were already a sure thing. He never understood why Marcus bothered and the man just couldn’t understand that harsh words and the truth was a lot easier to stomach than his pretty lies. 

Jack nodded. He was more comfortable with the truth. He understood what happened in the ally more than this.

Marcus sighed, “Well Roman wasn’t built in a day my boys.” He stood and waved a hand. “Come here Jack.” Jack swallowed but went, crawling over to the edge of the bed. He was shaking again, the crystal cutting into his palm but he didn’t let it go. “I’m just going to take a look at the damage. So what I need you to do is turn around,” Marcus resisted helping as the boy tried not to shake in fear and do as he was told, though Marcus could tell he just wanted to run. 

“Shh it’s alright, that’s a good boy.” He used his most calming tone as he ran a hand down the boy’s tense back. “There, shh, can you raise this knee,” he tapped Jack’s left knee. He glanced at the other two, who were watching his every move, tense and ready to react. Jack moved stiffly and Marcus could tell the boy was really hurting. “Fine Jack, well done, that’s it, just tuck that knee just under your armpit, that’s it, good boy. I’m going to take a look, now I’m going to touch you okay?”

Jack nodded, his eyes squeezed closed, his face hidden in his folded arms and bedding, his fingers tight around the crystal. He nearly jumped out of his skin as Marcus slid up the nightgown and he swallowed the memories, begging them to stay down. He flinched, mumbling beneath his breath. 

Marcus was sure he was the only one to hear the boy chanting Davy and something about a crutch beneath his breath. Sure enough he was bleeding. It looked like the monster had tried to force his fist into the boy. Red, puffy, and bleeding, “Jack I know it hurts, but I needed to know how far you’re torn up.”

Jack didn’t see where it mattered or why Marcus was asking. Jack was his right now and as long as he got his money he didn’t see where he had the right to say no to whatever Marcus wanted to do. Maybe he wanted to make sure Jack wasn’t gonna die on him before he did it. He nodded.

Marcus leaned over to the nightstand and checked several bottles, before he pulled the correct one. He opened and smelt it to be sure, before he coated a finger. 

Jack couldn’t help the noise he made though he tried and he tried not to tense up but he could never help that. 

Marcus cursed and pulled his finger gently from the boy. “Okay Jack, he did a bit of damage. So you have two options,” he pulled the boys nightgown down, tucking it over him, though he had bunched it up so the other two boys, hadn’t seen anything. “You can either get roaring drunk and allow it to be stitched up,” Jack whimpered, “which means the stitches will have to be removed with two weeks of a liquid diet.” The shaking increased beneath his hand.

“Whats ‘da odder way?” Spot asked.

Marcus glanced to Spot, he looked slight guilty to Marcus’ eyes and worried. Through not as worried as Race, who Marcus knew itched to come closer and comfort his friend but didn’t dare. 

“The other way, Jack looked at me.”

Jack ruefully pulled his arm down and looked at him, his face was bright red with shame and embarrassment.  
“The other way you would have to trust me. Though I promise if you do, not only would I make you feel so good, but tomorrow you would be completely healed. No pain, no stitches, no liquid diet, no awkward questions.” 

Jack didn’t take any time before he nodded. Even if the man was lying this was clearly what he wanted and Jack just wanted to go home. 

Marcus patted his thigh. “You won’t be sorry Jack.” He stood and turned away from the boys and walking to the liquor cabinet and stood his back to them for several minutes, mixing and doing something from they could hear.

“Yous ever hear about somethin’ like that?” Spot whispered to Race, who shook his head. 

“It’s an old European remedy made for just this type of injury, in my business it’s one that’s paid for itself in dividends.” Marcus returned, carrying a tumbler filled with a thick red fluid. He studied the boy, who had stayed where Marcus had put him, “Alright Jack stay just as you are. Has anyone ever put their tongue down there?” Jack shook head. Marcus could easily tell Jack didn’t even know that was thing or why anyone would. Marcus could also tell it was something the other two hadn’t done either by their looks. He smiled, “Well my boy you are about to have a really good time.” He bunched up the boy’s nightgown and took a sipped of the drink.

At first it just felt wet and Jack wiggled, not sure if he liked this idea at all but the fluid was so soothing both hot and cold at the same time, tingling. His eyes widened as felt something, oh god, Marcus’ tongue, his eyes slammed closed as he moaned. That felt, he sighed, his body loosening as the pain faded and pleasure began to take root.

Spot smirked, looked like Marcus hadn’t been kidding. He couldn’t see exactly what Marcus was doing, but Jack had loosened up. Marcus balanced the tumbler on Jack’s lower back and tilted his wrist to pour in it down Jack’s crack, where Spot imagined Marcus was pushing it in with his tongue. Sure looked like it felt good the way Jack was moaning and starting to lift his hips into it. His face looked blitzed out. Fuck Jack’s moans and whimpers were starting to get to him. 

Marcus pulled Jack closer to the edge of the bed, the boy so boneless he went without tensing, still whimpering and wiggling for more. Marcus leaned down and indulged him. The boy started keening and thrusting and Marcus backed off, not want him to come yet. He leaned back, leaving his thumb lightly rimming the boy. He looked to the other two, eager and kissing, he so enjoyed the heat of the young, nothing put them off pleasure for long. “Whatever you do,” they jumped apart at his voice, but Jack barely seemed to notice, “I encourage, but over there,” he gestured towards the part the bed where he’d be able to see and take care of Jack at the same time. 

Spot nodded. “Hey acushla we’re going to put on a little show.”

“What do you want me to do?” Race was more than fine with someone watching, it meant no touching the only person he wanted touching him was Spot.

Spot maneuvered them into the perfect place and lay on the bed, pulling Race between his legs. The nightgowns got in the way; his stuck underneath him, and between him and Race. He scowled and pulled his up and yanked until Race’s was out of the way. Race thrust against him. Spot didn’t want to fuck in front of them, but this, he thrust up was okay. A jar landed next to his head and he hadn’t even seen Marcus move but grabbed the jar. Spot loved the feel of the stuff, it made everything so slick between them, but not oily. Sometime they’d have to fuck using it but for now. He gripped them tightly, moaning as Race helped. He whispered, “God, don’t come until he lets Jack.” 

Race nodded and closed his eyes concentrating on Spot. Somehow seeing Jack enjoy himself was more intimate than watching him hurt. The noises he made, oh god and then as he thrust against Spot, burying his head into Spot’s shoulder, panting and kissing. Spot’s moaning, he whimpered, making Spot thrust hard against him. He whined. 

The only problem with the young was no staying power. The boys were practically desperate to come, little Jack was begging, his whole body thrusting back as he keened looking for release. The other were two shaking and whimpering, thrusting frantically against each other. 

He took pity and tongued the boy hard while siding his hand beneath and giving Jack something to thrust against and the boy came shaking and moaning. He lifted his head in time to watch the other two give in and thrust against each, their orgasms were beautiful. He could just watch the two of them forever. 

Spot let Race rest against him and looked over. Marcus was staring at him and Race and the look, Spot couldn’t place it, Race would-a known but Race wasn’t looking. That stuff Marcus had used on Jack looked like blood on his face. It was a little unsettling. Then Marcus winked at him and went to the pitcher and basin set. He washed, bringing back a wet towel.

Jack pushed himself up. He’d never felt anything like that, not with any girl, not any of his other times with men. He swayed as he got his arms beneath himself, he felt boneless and he didn’t hurt at all. 

“Hold still for one more second Jack me boy, allow me.” Marcus nudged him back onto the bed and Jack went willingly not even tensing as Marcus cleaned him. Marcus tossed the towel aside and grabbed up his whiskey taking a deep swallow before saying. “Jack my boy you taste better than 100 dollar whiskey.

Jack blushed and ducked his head. He knew he hadn’t actually earned anything and wasn’t sure what to do. He sat up, “Um yous know if yous wanna, I feel better.” 

Marcus smiled. “Thank you my boy. You are beautiful and that’s a most generous offer, that on another day we can talk about.” 

Jack didn’t know what to think, but he wasn’t going to argue. He turned to Spot, who was nearly dressed and helping Race who looked nearly asleep. He turned back to find Marcus holding his clothes. “Here you are.”  
Jack looked down to the stained white garment he wore and decided to just admit it. “I got this dirty, I’m sorry.”

Marcus shrugged. “We enjoyed getting it that way, that’s all that matters.” Marcus walked away from him as Jack started getting dressed. “Alright my princes, don’t forget your crystals. I’ve left something on the table for you, take it all. And next time,” He paused and Jack looked up from his shirt. On the other side of the bed Race and Spot did the same and once he was sure he had their attention, he continued. “Next time you need money, bail, doctors, lawyers, Indian chiefs, a gift, new clothes, a fucking hug from an adult you come to me. I am that person. I will prove you can trust me. Understood?”

Jack blinked in surprise. “Alright.”

“Yeah Marcus, I hears ya.” Spot smirked.

Race wasn’t sure but nodded as Spot seemed to be, which was good enough for him. All he wanted was a cigar and a bed, preferably one with Spot in it and preferably soon. He started patting himself down and pocketed his crystal as he pulled out a cigar only partially destroyed by the ape in the ally. 

“Racetrack.”

He looked to Marcus who was at the door. “Do throw that thing in the garbage and fetch some from the box on that table. Take a pack of each.” He pointed and Race, who was not one to ask twice as far as cigars went, quickly nodded. “Goodnight, my boys, I expect a visit soon, next time I’ll have presents. There’ll be a driver waiting for you out front just telling him where to go.” Marcus shut the door after himself. 

Race wandered towards the cigar box as soon as he was dressed. He whistled. “Lolla, I’ve never even seen ‘dis kind before but they sure do look razzy.” He lifted one and smelt it and grinned. Each pack held 5 cigars and Race took two, not wanting to take more than what a couple could be considered in case Marcus got upset about it. He pocketed one pack and opened the other, grabbing one out before pocketing the rest. He smelt it and sighed happily before picking up the fancy silver lighter. He inhaled and exhaled slowly. “I think I’m in love.”

Spot snorted, tossed over for a cigar. Well it was either going to be that or a horse. He rolled his eyes. “I love you too, grab me a cigarette.”

Jack stood in front of the small table Marcus told them was theirs but it couldn’t be right. Jack counted again. He looked up to Spot, when the other boy joined him. “This can’t be right Spot. All this, we didn’t do anything.”

Spot counted, “he earns more than this in a night Jack. He wants us to have it. And we gave him exactly what he wanted.”

Jack took his share, knowing he couldn’t give it all to David, cause there was no way Davy wouldn’t question it, but knowing there was all sorts of thing he could get with it.

Race wandered over and took one look at his portion and set to counting. “What did we give him that was worth 15 whole dollars each?”

Spot shrugged. “We let him do whatever he wanted and watch us come.”

“Oh,” Race blushed and pocketed his money. 

“And he wants us to come back.” Spot added, taking a drag off his cigarette and actually using the ashtray to put it out. “Let’s get out of here before he finishes whatever he had to do and decides he wants another go at us.”

That got them moving. They went quietly and quickly out the front but their presence didn’t go unnoticed by a man playing poker in the front room. He looked around the woman in his lap just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. He stared until the three boys were gone. 

The woman followed his glanced and scowled. “I didn’t know you wanted little boys?” 

“I don’t. I just wondered what they were doing here. They don’t look able to afford the front door fee.” 

Satisfied the woman curled back into him. “I don’t know, maybe they were someone’s special request.”

The man frowned. “They’re just kids. Is it possible they were working?”

“What they are is none of your business Monsieur.”

The woman in his lap went to attention. “My apologies Madam.”

He looked to the house Madam and nodded, “Mine as well Madam.” She was a beautiful woman with dark hair and marvelous green eyes. She wielded her pure cream skin and perfectly formed figure like a weapon. Her lips a ruby red curve that begged for a man’s touch yet something about her seemed so untouchable. She nodded and turned away, walking across the room to allow a city official to coo at her.

Next to them, another girl leaned over. “I hear Mister has ordered they be allowed in whenever they like. He’s taken by them, took half the money in the bar to give them I heard.”

The girl gasped as she was yanked up from her chair by the house Madam. “You hear far too much Alice. I believe you should perhaps fill your mouth with something other than words. Mr. Hervey and his friends would like to help you fill all your holes. Get to it and bring me every dime.”

The woman in his lap shivered and leaned into him. “Perhaps you’d like to fold sir and I can show you my room?”

The Madam twitched her eyebrow and Denton folded his hand.


	8. “It’s trust, ain’t it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is explicit sex in this chapter.

Loving Race made him a better person. People knew this, they tells ‘im that he’s not as mean and angry when ‘is best friend is around. He knew it because he didn’t kick the shit outta ‘dem for saying it. Spot sighed, the hot water steaming around them, Race sat in front of him, head tilted back so Spot could scrub the soap through his hair. Race had taught him to love and times like this were the perfect example of how. Love was Race barring his neck to him without fear, knowing Spot would wash his hair even after seeing him slice someone’s throat earlier that night. “Never leave me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Race sighed. He loved the feel of Spot’s fingers though his hair. Only one thing would make this perfect. 

“Don’t even think about lighting a cigar.”

Race smirked.

Newsies

Jack had wanted to stay with David. He could’ve happily wrapped around him and tried to forget the whole night. He couldn’t do that to Crutchie though. While David had been worried, David hadn’t known what he was doing. There was also the fact that David would have questioned him to death whereas Crutchie just waited patiently at Medda’s with only one question. “You alright Jack?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” It wasn’t as much of a lie as it could’ve been. Race and Spot had, to his eternal gratitude, allowed him the bathtub first and now clean he felt pretty good all things considered. He didn’t hurt and that was a huge plus. 

He glanced around the room. It wasn’t as fancy as the one he’d been earlier, but he preferred this one. He wondered if Race and Spot would stay, it was far too late to back to the boarding house, but Spot could go back to his warehouse any time he pleased. 

When Race leaned in to tell them he and Spot were leaving, he found them on the bed. Jack was asleep but Crutchie wasn’t. He was sitting up with Jack’s head in his lap as he ran his fingers though Jack’s hair. Race paused. He often did the same with Spot, it was comforting and intimate, still Race didn’t think much of it until Crutchie looked down to Jack’s face. Race backed out the door. He’d thought maybe, but then David had showed up, now he figured he’d just watch and see. He left without saying anything. They’d figure it out.

Newsies  
Crutchie was so thankful Jack had allowed him this. He didn’t seem to be in pain, which was good. He wanted to know what happened. He always wanted to know, but he wouldn’t ask. Jack would probably just sidestep the question and that would force him to let it go. He just hoped Jack hadn’t been lying about being okay.

Jack’s hair was so soft, his snores light, he was so pretty. Crutchie traced the long lashes, pulling his hand quickly away when Jack frowned. The last thing he wanted was to wake him. He’d move away and make a joke. Crutchie had to treasure what he got these days, since David had come long. 

He had thought Jack maybe returned some of his feelings. There were sometimes when Jack would allow him more than anyone else. He’d always been the only one Jack would let near the most. 

Then there was David. Crutchie had never seen Jack just attach himself to someone like that. Everything was David this and David that. Suddenly Crutchie wasn’t the only one, hell he wasn’t even the first one anymore. The funny thing was Jack was throwing himself at David and Crutchie knew David was looking back and had been from the first moment. He just didn’t think Jack knew what he was doing and he was willing to bet if David acted Jack wouldn’t know what to do.

Newsies 

Race pulled the burlap over the window, while Spot locked the door and pressed rags to the bottom. They’d figured out how to make the room nearly sound proof and put the knowledge to practice whenever they could. Race didn’t look over as he said casually. “That Marcus, he one of the guys? One of the guys, you, when I,”

Spot leaned against the wall, arms folded. “Yeah, he gave me the whole amount, after I got the first bit. It took a lot of money to make all those bribes and get ‘de paperwork though. They weren’t just going to give you to me.”

Race nodded, “I know.” He didn’t know how much money went into it, afraid to know really, but he’d known it was a hellva lot more than his fine. 

“I couldn’t leave you there. I didn’t let anyone fuck me.” Spot bit his lip, trying to end the emotion wrapped around his words. 

Race heard it anyway, he always did. He forgot his embarrassment, anger, pain everything but Spot. He nearly tripped he turned so fast.

Spot wasn’t sure how Race broke though his folded arms, not letting himself be blocked, winding around him, forehead tucked into his neck. “You always save me Spot. I love you. I don’t care what you had to do to save me, I’m just jealous.” 

Spot felt the pain recede. He didn’t know how Race did it, just tore though all his defenses and made him hurt less. He dug though his pockets, finding what he was looking forward, “hey acushla look what I got.”

Race lifted his head and smirked at the bottle. “You thief.” He took the bottle, “it’s my turn.”

Spot rolled his eyes “Yes”, but he was smiling. 

The idea of someone else touching any part of Spot made him see red. All Race wanted to do was erase any other hand that had ever touched what was his.

They had learned to start slow, fingers, building tension while relaxing muscles and Race knew when Spot was ready. Spot’s hips rocked back slightly and he moaned softly, dropping his head lower between his arms, elbows balanced on the mattress. Race eased into him slowly, paying careful attention to any flinch. He waited and kissed the back of Spot’s neck. They didn’t do this often and Race was always mindful. He waited until Spot moved and then started an easy pace. His mind though was still thinking of Spot’s mouth on someone else and it made him so fucking jealous-hurt-angry. Spot was his.

Spot gasped as Race’s arm slid to cross in front of his chest and grabbed the opposite shoulder, pulling Spot impossibly tighter against Race’s body. Spot couldn’t help the whine as Race started punching into him. He moaned loudly, wantonly when Race’s fingers tugged his head back and to the side, roughly holding him in place, punching, pushing, and knocking against that button inside of him. Spot tried to hold in the noises but Race was just taking and fucking him so good, whimpers and bitten off swears hitched out of him. He grasped his cock, stoking hard. Race pulled him further back, pulling him off balance and Spot saw stars, next to his ear, Race breathed hard, “mine, mine, mine.” Usually he’d laugh or scoff, this time he moaned, “yours, yours, Race.” His eyes rolled back as he came, Race thrusting harshly throughout and then tightening his hold, jerking into him.

They collapsed. Spot lay out, breathing harshly and Race swore. He eased away but swore again as Spot tried and failed to hide a wince. Race didn’t see any blood, he looked a little red but ok. Spot pulled away as Race felt the jitters rise. “Spot, please tesoro, don’t be mad. I don’t know what happened. You can have the next two times….Spot.”

Spot stretched, not really concerned with Race’s babble until he realized Race was really upset. He turned and Race had to see the grin on his face. He reached up and grabbed a handful of dark hair, pulling Race’s lips to his, sucking on his bottom one until Race shivered. “You didn’t hurt me acushla, but the second time is always longer and I hope you’re ready.” He sat up, leaning over Race, who looked a little worried, “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

Race swallowed, leaning back, “did we learn something?"

Spot nodded. “Oh yeah,” He pushed Race flat unto the bed. He went easily, collapsing back at the touch of Spot’s hand.

Spot took it as personal challenge to fight every fear and nightmare he ever had. It just wasn’t in him to let something go until he conquered it or at the least beat it into submission. That was the reason he didn’t mind Race taking him from behind, he refused to let it bother him. Spot never asked Race to do the same. He already liked what they did, and the one time Race wanted to try it had ended in tears. Spot couldn’t stand for Race to cry, it usually led to him killing something.

So when Race looked up at him from where he sprawled on the bed and said, “Should I turn over, like you were?”

Spot thought it might work better but said, “Na acushla, you’re fine right where you’re at.” 

Race relaxed and smiled and Spot dove in, kissing him until he arched seeking more contact. Spot gave it to him, sliding his hands further down even as he mouthed Race’s collarbone, working until Race threw his head back with a whimper. Spot grabbed the jar. No matter how careful he was Race always jerked and opened his eyes searching for him the moment Spot pushed the first finger into him. As soon as he saw Spot though, Race relaxed spreading his legs and wiggling closer. Spot immediately curled his finger, finding and pressing, faster and harder than he usually did. Race gasped not expecting the speed and quickness. He moaned as Spot didn’t relent, with his free hand he grabbed the jar and didn’t even pull back as he added more and a second finger, twisting and pushing, as Race lifted his knees and canted his hips. 

“Oh-oh Spot, please, oh god. Now.” Race tossed his head back.

Spot had been hard from the first whine and knew Race was ready; still he eased in before starting hard. He wrapped his arms under Race’s legs pushing him down and open, Race clutched his shoulders, panting and thrusting up. Spot thrust without pause, hammering into Race, for the first time not gauging every move. Thankfully the bed was too heavy to shift, but they moved across it, Spot had a mind to put his hand in Race’s hair protecting his head and gripping tightly, forcing him into an arch that had Race letting out a whine that didn’t seem to end only broken by harsh breaths. 

Race let Spot maneuver him, he barely felt the arch in his back, had no clue that his begging was pushing Spot further. All he knew was there, right there, Spot was hitting it with every thrust. Race panted to hold his hips at just the right angle, moaning, his hands clutching Spot’s shoulders. 

“Gonna cum in you acushla, can I?” 

Race keened, “Spot,” thrusting up. 

“Are you mine?” Spot tightened his hold, thrusting ruthlessly.

“Yes.”

Spot braced himself, leaving one hand in Race’s hair the other between them. He barely touched him when Race came, jerking and shaking. Spot pressed in as Race tightened painfully around him, he jerked his hips, coming with a shake.

He pulled his hand from Race’s hair, allowing the other boy to collapse just as he noticed the position. They fell onto the bed panting. Spot carefully moved back and told himself he hadn’t hurt him, Race always flinched when Spot pulled away. He resisted the urge to check for all of a second before seeing for himself that yes, Race seemed okay no blood. Race pulled away and Spot met his glazed goofy smile with one of his own. Spot dropped next to him, knowing they had to get up and clean-up but not wanting to move. They lay next to each other trying to catch their breaths.

“We’re so good at that.” Race announced to the ceiling.

Spot nodded sagely. “Yeah, so good we should name it.”

“Know anyone named Bob?”

Newsies  
Jack shook his head as he watched Race walk away with his papes on his way back to Brooklyn. The other boy was grinning like a damn fool and whistling of all things. Jeez, how had he not seen what was between Race and Spot before.

Jack wasn’t the only one to notice Race. Boots leaned up next to him, “I heard him and Spot shared a girl up in his room last night.”

“Huh”, so that was how, “maybe.” Jack allowed. He looked ahead to where David exchanged pleasantries with Race. 

Boots smiled slyly. “I heard she was a looker, weird name though, you ever heard of a girl named Bob?”

Jack shook his head, wondering what Spot and Race were up to and deciding he didn’t want to know. “Never have, maybe it’s a nickname.”

Boots nodded, “Hey-ya, girls can have nicknames too I guess. See-ya Jack.”

Jack nodded, kicked away from the wall and joined David.

“How come Race don’t live in Brooklyn?” David asked, trying to keep all his papers together as he walked with Jack. 

Jack couldn’t believe David had actually waited until they were walking before starting with questions. He was surprised David hadn’t gone right to what he actually wanted to know. Though he wasn’t dumb enough to believe it wasn’t coming. David was just feeling out the situation first. “Spot ‘n Race are bests right?”

David nodded. “Yes, which is why I thought Spot would want him close.”

Jack shrugged. “Sometimes he do ‘n when ‘dat happens then Race is with him. But Spot is ‘de King of Brooklyn and runs it like that. That’s how Brooklyn is, how it’s always been. ‘Ave you ever seen Spot tell Race w’ot to do?”

David seemed unsure then decided. “No, can’t say I have.”

“Cause he don’t. Spot always lets Race do what he’ll do. But if Race lived in Brooklyn he’d hav-ta listen to what Spot said, and Race couldn’t fight with him as he’s so fond of doin’.”

“So to remain best friends, Race can’t live in Brooklyn, cause then Race couldn’t really be his friend.”

“Yep.”

David shook his head. “Fine, I think I understand that, so why Manhattan? Race’s got friends everywhere, why’s he here?”

“It’s trust, ain’t it? Spot trusts me to do right by ‘im. It’s an honor like. And Race wants to be ‘here.” Jack glanced to David, who was nodding along. He was wearing a blue vest today, it looked good on him.

Jack got half way through his papes before David got quite for a little while. Jack took advantage, selling the other half before David got his nerve. He might not feel like selling afterwards.

“The doctor came and saw Les and Sarah. He gave them some medicine. The money covered everything, even the medicine. Their fevers broke too, papa says that’s a sign they’re going to get better.”

Jack grinned and nudged him. “That’s great Mouth. Les will be back ‘with us in no time flat.”

David nodded, “Yeah, it really is, but about what you did to help,”

He didn’t want David to know. He didn’t want Davey thinking of him like that. Right now David liked him, wanted to be his friend. If he found out what Jack was, well he might not want to be his friend no-more and Jack liked him. It was bad enough everyone else knew. Hell David’s parents probably knew and would tell David to stay away from him. Once they were sure they wouldn’t need a doctor again. They might even tell David why. The thought made him feel ill, he pushed it away. While he’d been thinking David had been talking and Jack only clued into the last bit. 

“So yeah, ah, thanks a lot. I don’t know what happened but, thanks.”

Jack realized he’d been so busy thinking that he’d just followed David without really paying attention. He glanced around. “What we doin’ in an alley Mouth?”

David glanced around. “I, uh,” he looked around, “I like you, and things didn’t work out with Sarah, so I thought this would be the perfect time to um show you.” He scratched the back of his head, looking everywhere but at Jack.

Jack frowned confused, was David trying to tell him they couldn’t be friends or that they were friends. “Show me what?” He stepped up to David, touching his arm.

David looked nearly frantic moving quickly forward. Jack jumped back unsure, his back bumping into the bricks. Then David was in his space, really close.

“Jack.” David whispered against his lips and then kissed him.

Emotions exploded and Jack didn’t know how to handle the sheer panic stemming from fear, awe, pain, and confusion. There was nowhere to go, he sidestepped, and ran.


	9. “I’m looking for Jack and Racetrack.”

Denton figured life would just be too easy if he had walked into Tibby’s and found who he was looking for. To be honest he didn’t know where else to look. This was his best guess of how to find Jack and Racetrack. He had no idea of where to even start looking for Spot and, if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t going to try. There was something about Spot that made him uncomfortable and Spot wouldn’t listen to him anyway. There were some newsboys there, most knew him and he recognized a couple. He didn’t know the name of any until he spotted Crutchie.

He paused next to the table, Crutchie grinned at him. “Hey-ya Mr. Denton, how’s you been?”

He smiled back unable to resist. “Hi Crutchie, I’m swell. How about you?” He gripped the back of an empty chair.

The boy shrugged. “Good, carrying the banner. What brings you slummin’?”

Denton glanced around the table. The faces were familiar ones he often saw around Jack, David and Racetrack. “I’m looking for Jack and Racetrack.”

Crutchie’s smiled shifted into something tighter and not so friendly. “Why’s that?”

He didn’t know what these kids knew but he knew it was something the way they glanced between each other. “I just wanted to talk to them about some places and people they’ve recently been involved with.”

Crutchie knew where abouts Denton might have seen them and wasn’t impressed by the man’s concern. He took a bite of his food.

“Hey Denton,” Spec’s started, getting the man’s attention before swinging his foot to rest against the table. He flicked the end of his pants, “yous see these?”

Denton tried not to look annoyed and nodded instead. “Your socks? Yeah, I see them.”

The dark haired boy next to him, Denton thought his name was Mush, said, “They got shirts and pants for us at the charity box, but they never think of socks.”

Spec’s nodded as he put his foot down. “We haven’t had socks in months and it’s getting cold.”

“And gloves,” Another boy pitched in. “We’s got gloves, no one’s going to lose a finger this year.”

Denton had never even given gloves or socks a thought.

“It gets cold in New York, already is cold in the mornings.” Crutchie said with a smile towards the boy, who nodded along, as he tucked his new gloves away. He looked up to Denton. “Jack and Race got those for all the boys.”

Denton did some mental math, “That’s nearly 2 dollars.” He tried to taper the shock in his voice.

“They saved Les and Sarah.”

Denton looked over. He hadn’t even heard David come over. “David,” then what he’d said penetrated, “they saved Les and Sarah?”

David nodded eagerly. “Yeah, we couldn’t afford a doctor Jack, Race, and Spot got the money together 12 whole dollars.”

Denton felt his eyes widen, both at David’s candor and the amount which frankly staggered him. Then he realized David looked entirely too ok with this and knew David had no idea.

Crutchie stood and backed them away from the other kids. The older boys finished their meals and started the younger out the door.

David didn’t even seem to notice, too busy looking around. “Have you seen Jack?”

“He isn’t with you?” Crutchie realized he hadn’t known David had come in because he hadn’t heard the general mayhem of greetings that followed Jack into a room.

David blushed and ducked his head. “Yeah, well I surprised him with something and he took off. I just gotta talk to him that’s all.”

Crutchie’s scowled deepened and he bit his tongue. It could’ve been anything, but Crutchie knew. He’d gone and done it, he’d come on to his Jack and probably scared him senseless. He wanted to leave and find Jack himself, but first he had to settle this.

Denton looked between the two boys and decided he wanted no part of this. “Alright, do me a favor boys and ask them to meet me here for lunch tomorrow.”

Crutchie glanced around and took a deep breath. “No.”

Denton leaned back in surprise. David was surprised as well, looking between them and put aside his own worries for the moment. Denton shook his head, leaning in. “Crutchie, I don’t think you understand what could happen to them.”

Crutchie snorted and shook his head. “Maybes I don’t but I trust they know what they’re doing.” Unlike Race, Jack, and Spot, Crutchie never back talked an adult and the dark thrill of it was tainted by fear of reprisal but he pushed through it for Jack. “You’re just going to tear down everything they did.”

“Why would he do that?” David looked to Denton.

Denton didn’t answer him, but shook his head. “It’s not about them helping anyone. I’m glad they could help Les and Sarah. It’s about how they got that money.”

Crutchie narrowed his eyes, “They wait until its life or death, until they ain’t gotta choice. And what else are they supposed to do? How to do you suggest they get that kinda money?”

Denton was at a loss for words. He pulled at what he knew about the lower classes and it wasn’t much. “There are programs, places…”

Crutchie interrupted with a bitter laugh. “Where do you think they learned it?”

Denton stopped, everything, every thought stopped. “What?”

“Wait- wait, what did they do?” David said and then quickly looking around lowered his voice, “are they going to get in trouble?” The idea of Jack getting trouble bothered him especially over his family.

Crutchie turned to David, “it’s nothin’.”

David took a look at Denton and figured it was a lot more than nothing. “Crutchie,

Denton looked around and realized he didn’t see any newsies. They’d cleared out of the place and Denton gestured the other two boys into a booth away from the door. Both boys went, though he was pretty sure they’d both rather be chasing after Jack. They didn’t speak to each other as Denton gave his order but as soon as the man had walked away Denton asked. “Is this something all the boys do?”

Crutchie scowled. “No. Jack wouldn’t have it. Just him and Race and only when we’s got an emergency. It’s not like they do it all the time. It messes them up.”

Denton nodded at once saddened and relieved. He could only imagine the damage done.

David pounced on the words, “Messes them up how?” He scowled, leaning forward, “I wish someone would explain to me what the hell is going on.”

Crutchie glared at him and David knew. One glare from Crutchie and he’d figured out what everyone had been skirting around. He launched out of his seat and out the door, he blindly turned into the alley between the restaurant and the place next to it, throwing up against the wall. Not his Jack.

Once he finished he wiped his arm against his mouth backing away. He saw feet and knew who it was by the crutch. He backed away until he reached the opposite wall and slumped against it

Newsies

Spot found him exactly where his boys said he’d be. He tucked his cane into his belt loop and leaned against the closest steel girder. Spot glanced at the slumped figure and tucked his hands into his pockets. He glanced over the water as he said. “What’ca doin’ on my side of ‘de bridge Jacky-boy?”

Jack shrugged then smirked, “technically I’m still on the bridge and not in Brooklyn.” He looked at Spot and saw his scowl, before looking back to the water. He tucked his arms into himself trying to block some the cold wind. Honestly he couldn’t think of anywhere else David wouldn’t dare look.

“Talk ta me, cowboy or I’m drop kicking you back to ‘hatten.” Spot glanced around, he’d cleared everyone out, but it didn’t hurt to be sure. He saw Socks at the end of the bridge, where he’d left him, too far back to hear anything and didn’t see anyone else.

Jack glanced over and huffed, guessing Spot was serious, and the back to the water. “He kissed me.”

Spot rolled his eyes. He preferred to stay out of others dramatics. He didn’t care who was kissing Jack as long as it wasn’t Race, who had better not. “The Gimp or the Mouth?” He always listened when Race spoke to him and Race saw everything.

“Crutchie wouldn’t, he doesn’t…”

Spot scoffed. “He would and he does, but we must be talkin’ about the other one.”

“How do you know anything about it?” Jack sighed, “Race,” he answered his own question. The older Race got the less he missed.

“Race.” Spot smiled slightly. “So what’s the problem? You don’t like boys?”

Jack shrugged. “Don’t know, maybe I do maybe I don’t…can you like both.” 

“Yeah, why not? I liked gurls until Race, now I like Race.”

Jack nodded it made sense, but, “um, I’m different”, he looked to see Spot humoring him, but losing his already very little patience.

Spot raised an eyebrow, “You’s gonna elaborate on that?”

“Ah I’s think I like the both of um and I’m not good enough for either of them.” Jack locked his arms around his knees. The view from up here was really amazing.

Spot smirked. “Both hey, good for you. Don’t know how you’d go about that.” He dropped to sit close to Jack. “And what’s that about you’re not good enough for them?”

Jack didn’t look his way even as he rolled his eyes. He hugged his legs tighter. “You know why.”

Spot’s eyes narrowed. “Kelly you better watch your words. You and Race been though a lot of that shit together and when you say you’re worth nothin’ because of it, because of stuff yous couldn’t stop, yous sayin’ Race ain’t worth nothin’.”

Jack blinked. He’d never thought of it like that and he certainly never thought less of Race. “Race is aces Spot. I never thought of him like that you know that.”

Spot nodded and looked away. “Don’t let him hear you talk like that might put ideas in his head. He’s good enough for anything – better than anything he wants.”

Jack glanced at Spot. “You really love him, don’t you?”

Spot quirked an eyebrow. “Let’s put it this way Kelly, if I thought for a moment you’d make him hurt over that shit, I’d a pushed you off this bridge.”

Jack looked down and then to Spot and believed it.

Spot lit a cigarette, took a deep breath and released it, watching the smoke.

Jack lit on an idea, “hey if I’d sent Race, you know before the strike, would you have told him you’d have ta wait an’ see?”

Spot smirked. “Nope. I’d burn Brooklyn to the ground if he asked me to. I’d do anything for Race- all he has to do is ask.”

Jack scowled at the water, thinking back and remembered thinking of sending Race.

“But you know how I know he loves me?”

“How?” Still rather sore about how things had played out.

“He’d never ask me.” Spot stood up as Jack recalled Race volunteering to go to mid-town and gone before Jack could say different.

Spot took a drag from his cigarette. “Look Cowboy you got two people who love you, that’s more than most got. I say grab em and make somethin’ work.” He tossed the smoke off the bridge, turning away as he called back. “And get the fuck off my bridge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of ways to waltz into immortality, does anyone have any ideas? Thoughts about what they'd like to see, no sparkles please.


	10. Make Sure.

Usually Race hated this, hated it so much, sitting in someone’s lap caused so much anxiety and fear. He’d sit so still and stiff, hoping against hope he would just be let go. 

This time though. 

Race sighed, slumped against the man, his head lulled against the man’s chest. He would find his eyes staring at the cards in the man’s hand, tempted to give advice, the guy across the table was clearly bluffing, but he didn’t. He didn’t care about the hand or the words the man murmured to him. Race turned his head away from the cards and looked next to him, where the man who held Jack had already folded, and now had Jack sucking on his finger. Unlike usual Jack wasn’t angry, wasn’t fighting, his wrists weren’t even tied. Jack was just letting the man move him as he wanted. 

A man across the table said something that had everyone laughing, everyone but him and Jack, Race rolled his head that way to look. Another man (next to man who was still laughing at his own joke) wasn’t laughing either. “How much fucking laudanum did you give them?”

Race felt the chest beneath his back take a breath and marveled about it for a moment. 

“You saw them. They were too scared to be any fun. We couldn’t even untie that one’s wrists. Now look at them, they feel good, they’re happy. They ain’t hurtin. Hell they’re not even going to remember this. It’s good for them.”

“Good for them? They’re kids. I don’t even think that one’s a teenager.” 

The man sounded angry and usually that was something Race cared about but he couldn’t work up the emotion. For a second Race had worked up the want to argue that he was a teenager, at least 14 but then that flowed away as well. 

“They’re fine.” The man holding Jack said. “He was shaking before the laudanum kicked in, now he’s relaxed. He likes it.”

“Maybe I think the whole thing is just wrong.” The man announced, scowling down at his cards.

“Maybe you’re drunk and should shut your mouth.” Someone at the table muttered.  
“Or leave.” The man holding Race said, “I told you the winner of each hand was going to get a prize.”

“Funny enough, when you said ‘winner gets his cock sucked’, I thought you meant by an adult woman, not two frightened kids drugged to their eyeballs.”

Fingers tugged gently on Race’s ear and played in his hair, it felt fuzzy. Fingers brushed against his lips, “suck.” Race did as he was told and the only thing he felt was a slight distant joy that he wasn’t scared or felt anything about it really.

“See he can suck your dick better than any girl.” Race swallowed around the fingers. “Shit, can he suck.”

“No gag reflex, been trained right of them.” The man holding Jack thrust his fingers deep and Jack swallowed quickly, but he didn’t gag or make any noise. 

“Just be careful with them, we have to pay more for any damage and we didn’t pay to fuck so don’t.” 

“I’ve got to go.” The man across the table jumped up. 

Race sort of recognized the pitying look tossed his way by the man across the table. 

“Then go, aren’t you leaving on assignment tomorrow anyway?”

The guy holding Jack looked up from nuzzling Jack’s hair long enough to say, “Fuck off Denton.”

Race sat straight up in his bed, breathing harshly. He thought frantically, trying to convince himself that it was just a nightmare and had never happened. It hadn’t, couldn’t have. He shivered, it was cold. 

Race looked around the lodging house, wishing he’d stayed in Brooklyn, cursing himself for not having Spot. He got out on the right side, seeing Jack asleep on the next top bunk. Jack hadn’t been there when he’d fallen asleep. He debated for several minutes, shaking and rubbing his arms. He thought about waking Jack and asking. He thought about getting dressed and going to Brooklyn. He checked the time. It was a few hours before the morning edition. 

Jack blinked sleepily; “Race?” then he got a good look at Race’s expression and sat straight up. He looking around frantically and, seeing nothing but the lodging house, he fell back against the bed. Taking a couple of deep breaths before he was able to look back to Race, “nightmare?”

Race tilted his head, “Maybe.”

Jack’s stomach sank, “Memory.”

“Maybe.”

Now Jack was just confused. He didn’t wake up good at the best of times and ten seconds after scaring the shit out of him was not the time to be spewing riddles. Yet even half asleep, and heart still pounding, he remembered he loved Race and if that wasn’t enough he didn’t want Spot soaking him. “Can you talk about it?” Jack whispered.

Race nodded. 

Jack rubbed his face with one hand. “Let’s go.” He grabbed his blanket while Race did the same and met him at the linen closet. Jack tied his bandana onto the knob, before opening the door and studying the space. “Sooner or later we’re going to be too big to fit in here.”

Race rolled his eyes, “You maybe.” 

The closet was the place you went when you needed privacy. When you needed to either discuss something you didn’t want to share or you needed to hide for a bit. They all had those moments when they needed a little space to put themselves together without witnesses or maybe just a chosen witness. 

Newsies

Sometimes Crutchie took longer than usual to get his leg going especially when the weather got cold and it was a brisk morning. By the time he got the bathroom he knew something was wrong. He looked around the quiet room, he didn’t see Jack, but hadn’t seen him before he’d gone to bed either and he had waited up for him. “What’s wrong with you bums?” Crutchie called out to the room. 

Blink slammed the tin cup with his shaving cream onto the counter. “I know it had to be done Crutchie but damn-it.”

“Jack and Race were in the closet.” Mush said.

Crutchie bit his tongue against the swear, a part of him already blaming David. He turned and caught himself before he fell, his leg wasn’t up to pare yet. 

“Woe Crutchie,” another hand grabbed him, “you alright?”

He lifted his head to see Jack’s smiling face. 

“Jack?”

“Dat’s me name.” 

He seemed okay, no dark circles, no hiding smile, just normal Jack. 

Crutchie could hear the happiness level lift with noise as Race started to prod the others. He smiled, “I’m good Jack.”

Jack clamped a hand onto his shoulder squeezing, “Glad to hear it.” Jack let go after one more squeeze and started into the bathroom. 

“Hey Jack,”

Jack turned, even while ducking a shaving brush tossed between newsies. “Yeah Crutchie?”

“Can we talk later?” Crutchie tried to keep his tone light but a shadow still crossed Jack’s face.

“Yeah, sure, Crutchie.”

Newsies

“Uh Spot, yous and Race have a fight?” 

Spot scowled at the thought. “Fuck no, why?” He glared at Socks, who raised his hands and backed up.

“Ah, it’s just you seem a little tense this morning is all. I meant nothin’ by it.” Socks took off. 

Spot frowned at his back, nosy bastard. He hadn’t realized it but he musta been a real ass for Socks to say something. It was just getting harder to miss Race and last night he woke up thinking Race needed him. Could barely go back ta sleep. He lit a cigarette, twirling his cane in the other hand. He thought he’d be able to balance Brooklyn for a few more years.

“Spot! Some boys from 'de Bronx is here.”

The boys from Bronx had been pressing their luck for a month. Spot tightened the grip on his cane, striding forward, maybe not tomorrow but for today he was still King. 

Newsies

“Papa plans to go by the factory today. He thinks it’s time, Mama thinks he might be pushing it but he does seem better.”

Jack nodded along. He had wondered if David would bring up the kiss first chance but instead he’d talk about everything else. Jack played along, selling his papes (and David’s) since David was busy playing up to his nickname. 

“I think Les is going to come back out with me tomorrow.”

Jack grinned, he’d missed Les. “Good. Sarah?”

David nodded. “Yeah, Sarah’s doing good too.” David paused. He didn’t know how to bring it up. He didn’t even know what he should bring up. The kiss and his feelings for Jack, which in light of the new information, maybe he should have told Jack in a different way. Or should he tell Jack that he knew (well not knew, as Crutchie hadn’t known exactly) what he’s done to get the money for the doctor. No, he should tell Jack how he felt, so Jack would know David’s feelings hadn’t changed. Nodding to himself, he turned to Jack, who was running from him and towards a boy frantically waving at him. 

The other boy looked like a newsie but David didn’t recognize him, which meant he came from somewhere else. David jogged over.

“Where the fuck is Race, shit, did you send anyone to the track?”

The boy nodded in reply just as David stopped beside Jack, “What’s wrong?”

Jack glanced at him. “Bronx made their move.”

David nodded. He’d heard (like everyone else) that the Bronx was stepping on Brooklyn’s toes recently.

“They shot Spot,” the kid all but whaled.

“What?” David swallowed, “Spot? Shit, is he?”

The kid sniffled. Jack smacked his arm, “answer him.”

“He’s hurt real bad.”

“Where is he?”

“His room at the warehouse.”

Jack nodded. “Alright, yous go back, make sure dey find Race. Make Sure. Come on, Davey.”

Jack took off running. David could barely keep up. “Where are we going?”

Jack glanced to him, “We’re getting help.”


	11. “Did it go straight through?”

I apologize for the lateness of this part. I’ve had two deaths in my family in the last 3 weeks. It’s been awhile since I’ve gone to a funeral. That aside I just couldn’t get this part to lay right. I am still far from happy.

 

David had no idea where they were going but Jack seemed sure. He kept up, afraid to have to even guess where Jack might turn next. He did know they were in parts of the city his parents would never let him go. He might have never been to the Bowery but he’d heard enough to guess that’s where they were. He was thankful they didn’t have enough time for him to stop and blush.    

Jack turned down an alley at fully sprint and David nearly slid past, but caught himself and followed. They hadn’t run from Snyder this fast. Suddenly Jack stopped behind a place the size of his apartment building.

“Side door, which fucking side,” Jack stuck his head around a corner, “there, red door, come on Davey.”  

David followed him around the side and to a red door. Jack paused, “just um, please Davey keep quiet huh?” He nodded and Jack quickly used his fist to bang on the door in a rapid succession.

Davey fell back when door opened. He’d never seen a man so giant.

“Whoever the fuck is laying on the door,” the man bellowed and David nearly ran, but then the man stopped mid-breath, “Little one, what’s wrong?”

“Please Midnight. We need help someone shot Mikey.”

The big man nodded. “It’s okay little man.” He slammed his hand onto the wall and David could hear bells begin to blare out.

David couldn’t see around the human mountain but he could hear a lot of people coming their way. The man glanced over his shoulder, turning enough for David to see flesh and to blush to his toes, girls-women in their under things, he looked away.

“Get the Mister! Go girl, stop for nothing. You, go have the carriage brought around, move.”

David didn’t look, it wasn’t right, but he could hear the girls hurrying to do the man’s bidding.

Midnight turned and spoke to people inside, someone handed him a black bag, it reminded him of a doctor’s case. David leaned into Jack, “Mikey?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, Midnight and Marcus know our names but Spot didn’t want none of the girls or others around to know. It’s Spot, I’m sure he has his reasons.”

David nodded. Though he thought it might be Spot just being difficult.   

David looked up when Midnight reached out to Jack’s shoulder and he was surprised when Jack didn’t dance away like he usually did. Midnight practically bent at the waist to meet Jack’s eyes. “It’s alright Cowboy. Where’s he at?”

Jack blinked as panic rose. He didn’t know the address of the warehouse, he didn’t know if it had an address. The panic must have shown on his face.

“It’s okay, the Mister will find it.” Midnight placed a comforting hand against Jack’s face, the palm nearly covered the whole side of his head.

“Leave us.” A male voice bellowed.

David could hear a crowd of people leaving, could see the backs of some as Midnight moved aside.

A distinguished man with dark glasses stepped next to Midnight. He glanced to the sky and then to Jack “Jack, come here.”

David pressed his lips together as Jack actually did it, not only did Jack just move closer, but close enough to rest his forehead against the man’s chest. “Fix him, please Marcus, like you fixed me.”

The words stuck David, he’d fixed Jack. Jack had been so hurt someone had to fix him. The thought made him nauseous.  

Marcus lifted a hand and brushed it over the back of Jack’s head. “It’s alright. Here comes the carriage, let’s go fix Spot hmmm.”

David bit back the bile and tried to figure out if he was just jealous or if there really was something terribly off about this man.

Newsies

“Get out!”

Spot awoke or maybe regained consciousness to the sound of his Race screaming bloody murder.

“All of you! Get out!”

Spot could hear the tears, anger and terror in his voice and it made him rally together the strength to say. “Get the fuck out until he says otherwise.”

“Spot,”

The relief in Race’s voice made him smile.

Spot slowly cracked his eyes open and was careful not to move, every movement was pure agony and he didn’t want Race to see that. He made sure they were alone, “Hey Acushla.”

Race’s hands hovered over him, not knowing where to touch. “Oh god Spot, oh god. I don’t, oh god,” tears rimmed his eyes, “I don’t know what to do Spot. Please tell me what to do.”

Spot took a shallow breath. “It’s alright.”

Race shook his head. “No, no it’s not. Where Spot, where did that fucker? I’m going to kill him Spot, I’m gonna.”

Spot knew there would be no talking to him about it yet. He had time to invoke some deathbed promises if it came to that.  “Right under my last rib, left side.” He let Race pull down the blanket and see the wrapping. “See we wrapped it up.” Spot knew the small patch of blood on his front was a lot less worrying than the large hole in his back and didn’t mention it.  

“We should get you a doctor.” Race stood up as if to do just that, but Spot grabbed his hand.

“A doctor wouldn’t come here Race and even if one did we couldn’t afford it. Then after he left he’d report us being here. We can’t bring a doctor here.”

Race pursed his lips, “Fine, we’ll take you to a doctor.”

Spot knew he’d probably bleed out the minute they tried to move him. All the wrapping and him laying on it was probably the only thing keeping all his blood in. Socks had said the hole was pretty big. Spot couldn’t tell, the whole area was agony, better now that he’d gotten hold of the whiskey.

“Not just yet Race.”

Race’s face crumbled and Spot knew he hadn’t been able to spare Race at all. Race dropped to his knees beside the bed. “We can’t move you.”

Spot reached out and brushed his fingers through Race’s hair. “Na, don’t think so.” Besides his legs were numb, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Race nodded, large tears gathered in his eyes. “I can’t be without you.”

“I plan to haunt you.” Spot smiled wanly, “Come here.” They kissed softly. Spot slid his hand to back of Race’s hair and grabbed, pulling him back slightly. “I will never leave you Racetrack, living or dead.” He shook his hand slightly or perhaps it had started to shake on its own.

“I need you here.” Race whispered. “You have to be here.”

Spot’s ache was more than physical, he hated to hurt Race. He wanted to promise he’d be alright, but there was no way he was on his game enough to sell Race a lie.

Race didn’t jump back as he normally would’ve at the knock at the door. He hadn’t even made to the door, before Socks was yelling though. “Kelly’s brought some hoity-toities. One’s only slightly smaller ‘den ‘de building.”

Race threw open the door and there he was, Marcus. The sight of the man reminded Race, this man had healed Jack. Healed him so well that Jack said it felt like nothing had happened. Marcus came in and shut the door. He carried a black bag, like a doctor’s. Race blinked, the hope lodged in his throat, he dropped to his knees. “Anything,” he breathed feverishly, “name it, anything. Please.”   

Marcus dropped his fingers to brush against his face and Race lifted into the touch even when his natural response was to pull away from any touch that wasn’t Spot’s.

In the bed, Spot gritted his teeth and lifted himself enough to see Race kneeling, see Marcus’ face as his fingers brushed Race’s cheek. “No.” He barked out with as much force as he had.

Marcus’ hand wrapped around his chin briefly, he didn’t even glance Spot’s way. “Would you give yourself to me, become mine? Would you give up ever seeing him again if you knew he was alive?”

Race blinked back the tears and nodded, forcing out. “Yes.”

Spot struggled to pull himself up, every inch of him screaming agony. “No, please.”

Marcus was suddenly there in front of him.

Spot startled when Marcus paused his movements with an iron hand. Race hadn’t even had time to react to his leaving. Marcus ducked his head to meet Spot’s eyes. “I would never take him from you or you from him.”

Spot scowled, “so what, you were testing him?”

“I was asking him a question, not saying I would. Come here Racetrack let’s see what we can do for your other half.”

Race slowly stood, slightly angry but not sure what was going on, not really caring either as it looked like Marcus was going to help.”

Spot glanced to Race, who looked devastated and obviously not thinking, and reached out. Race grabbed his hand and with his other Spot stopped Marcus from touching the bandage. “What’s the cost?”

Marcus looked between them. “Visit me. You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to. That’s it.”

“Spot.” Race begged.

Spot released Marcus’ hand and laid back.

Marcus opened the bandage. “Did it go straight through?” 

“Yeah,” Spot looked away from Race.

Race scowled and breathed deeply. “You forgot to mention that.”

Spot smirked, “Slipped my mind.” He was beginning to feel a little blurry around the edges after all that movement.

“Spot.” Spot looked to Marcus and his gaze was caught. “I want you to let the heaviness happen, just relax.” Spot felt his body go boneless, and was alright with it, even if it felt like he wasn’t exactly in control. “That’s a boy. Good boy, now just let the pain go, it doesn’t really affect you. You don’t really feel it, do you?” Spot shook his head. “That’s right.”

Race looked from Spot to Marcus, questions forming, just for Marcus’ eyes to meet his. “Calm my sweet. We can fix this.” Race gladly let go of the stress and fear. “That’s it Racetrack. Now come here, next to Spot and we’ll get this fixed up.” Race forgot his questions as he fit in next to Spot, holding him close as Marcus opened his bag.


	12. Chin-up

Socks eyed the human mountain standing in front of Spot’s door. “You sure about this Cowboy?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, Marcus can fix ‘em.”

Socks nodded and wandered off to join a group of boys.

David watched him go with a wary eye. Out of all the newsies he’d interacted with the Brooklyn ones were the least friendly. Still, they had let him and Jack stay while they waited to see how Spot was fairing. That was nice of them, even if they’d stuck them in a corner and only spoke to Jack. He glanced over to Jack, sitting across the small table from him, kicked back in his chair and blowing smoking. “It was nice of them to let us stay.”

Jack lifted his head, shaking it at him while he chuckled. “Davey they ain’t being nice. They’re keeping us here. If Marcus fucks up and kills Spot they’re going to soak us.”

“Huh,” David paled as he looked around. “Really? That’s not fair, what if he’s too hurt for Marcus to help? It’s not our fault.”

Jack shrugged. “That’s why it’s just a soaking. I brought em ‘ere and said he could help, I vouched for ‘em.” 

David glanced around. “Ah, this guy can help him, right?”

Jack nodded, turning towards him more fully. “Hey no worries Mouth. He can, I know it.”

“Cause he helped you, that’s what you said.”

Jack’s feet hit the floor, and he put his arms on the table, leaning in. “Yeah, cause he helped me.” Their eyes met across the table and for several seconds neither looked away finally Jack’s eyes shifted down, “You know.”

David didn’t look away. “Yeah. I know.”

Jack gritted his teeth. He was good at reading people, nothing like Race, but he could read people. David and Crutchie more than most, which was why he trusted them more than most, at times like this though, he sighed, it was hard, because he was learning they could read him too. 

David glanced around; no one was paying them any attention. He leaned in, “it don’t change how I feel about you Jack.”

Jack quickly looked around. “Davy.” It wasn’t right to mention his business, Manhattan business, in Brooklyn.

David waved him off. “I know, not here. I just wanted you to know. I promised I wouldn’t say anymore than that until we could get together with Crutchie anyway.”

“What?”

David shrugged and looked away.

Jack frowned at the side of David’s face and lit another cigarette. He had a bad feeling about this.

Newsies

Spot glanced down to the tube Marcus had inserted into the rather nasty hole under his ribs. Spot didn’t know what Marcus was doing but whatever it was- it was helping. At first it had been distantly painful, but as the fluid ran through the tube and Marcus withdrew it, he felt better. Tired but better, weak but not dying. He leaned his head up and blinked down to Marcus’ hand, dislodging Race’s fingers from his hair.

Race immediately sat up. “You alright?”

Spot nodded. “Yeah, feelin’ top notch.”

Race sighed in relief.

Marcus smiled but didn’t look up from the wound and tube he held. “I imagine we’re nearly there. I don’t dare give you more than a drop at time. Must be careful about these things my dear boy or we could have a problem.”

Spot shrugged, he didn’t care how long it took if he could leave this bed when it was all said and done. There was only one thing that bothered him about this whole arrangement, he glanced to Race and brushed a finger across his cheek. “How much longer does he have to have that needle in his arm?”

Race glanced down to the needle and followed the tubing up to the bag Marcus held and the tube that left it and fed into Spot. Race didn’t care how much blood Marcus needed to take from him to help that mixture heal Spot.

“You feelin’ alright?” Spot didn’t know much about doctoring but he figured losing blood might hurt Race.

“Top notch.” Race grinned. Spot rolled his eyes. Race snickered but he really did feel fine. More than actually, he thought it might be just the knowledge of Spot being all right but he felt too big for his skin.

“Actually,” Marcus leaned over and deftly took the needle from Race’s arm. Race put his other hand to it expecting a sting but there wasn’t one and when he looked, he couldn’t even find a mark. “I think that will do for you, as I said, this is very careful work.” He glanced down as he mumbled, “want to keep you evenly keeled.”

Spot and Race shared a look, Race shrugged and Spot snickered back.

Marcus pressed against Spot stomach before slowly pulling more tubing. The boy had been actively dying when he’d gotten here, wouldn’t have lasted another hour by the look of it. Still he was nearly finished.

“He’s gonna be all fixed up, right?” Race stared at the tubing being pulled from Spot.

Marcus slid his hand over the wound as he worked. “Oh yes, this stuff works even better on him than Jack. Strong blood this one, due to his mother.”

Race’s eyes widened and looked between Marcus and Spot.

Spot rolled his eyes, “I still don’t even remember her.” He looked to Race, “I don’t remember her but apparently Marcus does,”

Race had never even met someone who’d known his mum. It was at once fascinating and despairing.

Marcus nodded. “She was a Roberton, a beautiful lassie with green eyes. A strong ancient line, descended from Irish fey, Scottish Picts, and the great Vikings. They all have good skin and intelligent minds, Spot didn’t fall far from the tree.”  

Spot rolled his eyes. Race had never thought about Spot’s mother, hell he tried not to think of his own.

Marcus pulled the tubing letting it run over the skin, he didn’t want any scarring. He cleaned up, “who saw this wound Spot?” He rewrapped the now perfect skin.

“Besides Race, just Socks.”

Marcus nodded. “Good, keep completely to your bed for a week.” If he’d been working with adults a week would have hardly been sufficient but with children. Well children had no idea how long such wounds would take to heal or even how badly Spot had been hurt. Their memories were shorter and time seemed longer. They would accept Spot being up after week. Beside he didn’t think the boy would hold out longer than that anyway.  

Spot scowled but nodded. “Yeah, alright.”

“Then _slowly_ start moving around again.”

Spot saw the wisdom in what Marcus was saying but damn he wanted to give those Harlem boys something to hurt about. “I hear ya. And Socks?”

“We’ll talk.”

Spot raised an eyebrow.

“Just talk my boy. Chin up lad, think of this as the perfect reason to keep yourself locked away with Race for a week.”

Spot smirked, well there was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next part will be up sooner, my apologies for the overly long wait.
> 
>  
> 
> I found this family while researching for a class and was completely fascinated. The family name (Roberto/u/n isn’t common anymore. In fact I think there are only a few thousand in the world but what history. This family was related to everyone that was anyone, from saints to fae (according to legend) and Constantine to Rollo the Norman. The official tree can be found here  
> http://powys.org/pl_tree/pc37/pc37_461.html  
> To get to the Viking Rollo (made famous by the TV show Vikings) click Hugh Montgomerie at the far right end of the screen, then far right again Robert III, king of Scotland, next Sir Robert (VII), then (remember this was a long time ago) Henry of Scotland Earl of Huntingdon, then Robert I and then the page with Rollo will load. I couldn’t think of a better fit for Spot.


	13. Push 'an Pull

“Race? Didn’t expect to be seeing you round here.” The boy braced one hand on the knob of the Bronx lodging house, leaning against the other side.

Race rubbed his cigar out against the wall. “He ain’t dead and its game night. Business is business, Erie.”

Erie’s eyes widened though he scowled in disbelief. “Yeah, but Spot’s your best friend, I ain’t buying it. What ‘de’s boys wit you Brooklyn or something?”

Race rolled his eyes. “You know dey ain’t.”

Another boy joined Erie at the door. “They’re from Queens Erie. So let ‘em in already.”

Four hours later, Race waved his way out the door, Bronx the poorer for letting him in. Erie opened the door, “You fleeced us ya bastard.”

Race smirked. “Well consider it payback.”

“Yeah, beat it.” But Erie smiled slightly as he said it.

The two from Queens wandered after him. They walked back together, shooting the breeze until they’d crossed over to Queens’ territory. Race turned to the two, “Well?” he leaned against the closest building and lit a cigar.

The taller of the two, a head or so over Race, took off his hat and rubbed his head. “None of ‘dem knew Scotty had a gun until he was pointin’ it. He found it while he was carrying ‘de banner.”

“He ain’t even got no more bullets for it, he wasted ‘dem all.” The other kid added. “After he shot Spot,” Race’s scowl made him pause for a moment; he had to glance at the other kid for the confidence to continue. “Afterwards he um was scarred and tossed it, he ain’t even gots it no more.”

“Are you sure?”

Both boys nodded.

“And everyone agrees it was Scotty?”

They nodded. “Yeah, we’s even heard he was braggin on it.”

Race took the winnings from his pocket. “Here and we ain’t never had ‘dis talk.”

The taller of two grabbed the money and they took off.

Race took a deep pull from his cigar and glanced up, studying the stars for a moment. He blew out the smoke as he pushed away from wall. He had a lot to do and he’d better get going if he didn’t want Spot wondering.

Newsies

Once Jack put his mind to it, it was rather easy to keep himself from being alone with Crutchie and David. And he could tell they regretted (or at least David regretted) telling him they’d only talk about it when the 3 of them were together. Crutchie didn’t carry the banner anywhere near him and Davy and afterwards there too many people around, later David went home for the night and repeat the next day. Jack could tell they were irritated with the situation and him, but it was still in the stages of fond irritation so Jack figured he could avoid it for maybe another week more before they started demanding. He just wasn’t sure what they were going to say. He wasn’t sure what he wanted them to say.

They were heading to find some lunch when Boots met up with them, he patted Les on the head. Les scowled and adjusted his hat with a, “hey”.

Jack grinned down at him as Boots said. “Denton’s at Tibby’s lookin for you and Race.”

Jack rolled his eyes, talk about things he was avoiding. Now he had to think of somewhere else to go for lunch, which was also busy enough that Mouth and Crutchie wouldn’t be able to corner him. This day was getting far too complicated for him. He sighed and pulled at his bandana, “well fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.” Les parroted and then attempted to avoid David’s slap to the back of his head.

Jack smirked; letting Les use him to avoid David’s waving hands. He ignored the brothers dancing around him as pondered, “seen Race?”

Boots shrugged. “He’s been keeping close to Brooklyn.”

Jack nodded that was true. After a week of not leaving Spot’s side, Race was only now showing up around Manhattan.

“Hey-ya fellas, where’s lunch?” As if they had talked him up Race’s voice called out.

“Race!” Les yelled and leaped towards the Newsie. David didn’t even try to hold him back.

Jack turned to see Race nodding along to whatever Les was jabbering on about.

“How’s Spot?” David called out as they came closer.

Race rolled his eyes with fond smirk. “Spot’s Spot. We headin’ to Tibby’s?”

“We were.” David scowled, using one hand to restrain Les a little.

“Denton.” Boots added.

Jack sighed; though now that Race was here, he felt maybe they should see what the hell the man wanted to say to them. He’d been thinking about what Race had told him and wished he could say it meant nothing to him, but it did and when he thought about it he could remember some of it. He shook off the memories. He wasn’t ready.

“Damn I was lookin’ for one of dem sandwiches.” Race frowned then brightened, “hey he never stays around long, we’ll wait em out.”

“You mind Boots?”

Boots shook his head. “Na, yous gonna wait round the corner?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, we’ll be there.”

Boots headed back towards Tibby’s while they went around the back and entered the alley. Jack led them past some kids playing at the front to further back. He bummed a light from Race and leaned against the wall next to him. They smoked quietly, both nodding along to Les’ dramatic interpretation of that morning’s banner.

Finally Davy called him off and walked him to the head of the alley to see if he could set Les up to play with some of the other kids while they waited.

Jack rolled his head against the wall to look at Race. He’d been meaning to get Race alone and this was a good a time as any. He leaned closer. "Marcus fixed him right 'da first day, didn't he?"

Race watched Les and David. "Yeah."

"I promised to go see Marcus."

"Us too, wouldn't make you go alone Jack. We'll go when yous do."

Jack hadn't known how much he was worried about the idea until Race set him at ease. He rolled his shoulders as he leaned back and said in a normal tone. “Been hearing things.”

Race raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

"I hear Scotty's been missing since Monday."

Race shrugged. "Wouldn't know, wasn’t my turn to watch him."

Jack flipped away from the wall, lowering his head enough to catch Race’s eyes and offered his hand, smallest finger arched towards Race. Race scowled and rolled his eyes with a huff but still briefly intertwined his pinky with Jack’s before pulling away. Times like this he wished he could box the ears of his younger self who though entering a bargain of trust and secret sharing with Jack Kelly was a smart thing to do.

Jack didn’t move back far, “Spot slit his throat?”

Race figure two could play this game. “No. What’s going on between you, Mouth and Crutchie?”

“They want to talk to me about how they feel about me. You know what happened to him?”

Race met his eyes. “I did. Why won’t you talk to them?”

Jack shrugged. “I will, I just gotta figure out what I want you know?” Race nodded and Jack continued. “You slice his throat?”

“Nope shot the fucker in the gut. My Spot didn’t scream like a girl or beg.”

“How did you…Marcus.”

“Marcus,” Race agreed. Around Jack, Race could see Mouth trying to convince Les to stay and play without him. “Talk to them Jack, sooner rather than later.”

Jack nodded but Race could tell he was too scared to go through with it. Jack leaned away, again taking up space next to Race.

Race grinned at Mouth’s failure as Les followed him back. He dug into his vest pocket, “wanna see something kid?”

Les nodded and eagerly studied what Race handed him. “Is it a diamond?” Les breathed out.

David looked around nervously. “No but it is expensive, a fine crystal I think.”

Race nodded. “Yeah, let me show you what it can do.”

Newsies

Les was still taking about the crystal when they got home and David was relieved to open the door. Though most of his irritation was actually with Jack, who had successfully avoided them again. He was trying to have the patience Crutchie asked of him, but it wasn’t easy.

Les walked in first, excited to tell the rest of the family about his day, but stopped unsure at the sight of their parents at the table. David followed him into the room. His eyes went between his parents and a teary eyed Sarah. Esther stood from the table and came round smiling warmly as their father stood up. They got a hug each as papa said, “Sit down boys, we need to have a family discussion.”

Newsies

Spot doesn’t mean to be late, but he promised to let Race know and he didn’t break promises to Race. So by the time he arrived it looked like he was the last. He could hear the initial stages as he advanced to where Sock’s tried to hold his own against Bronx’s Johnny. He can tell Johnny doesn’t expect him but his own are happy to see him as they quickly moved aside to let him through. They’re still posturing when Spot emerged to stand slightly ahead of Socks.

“Spot.” Johnny looked surprised perhaps a little angry. “Didn’t expect to see you.”

Spot smirked. “Oh I’m full of surprises. How bout you Johnny? You got any surprises?”

Johnny shook his head. The other boroughs were starten to think they were yellow, pullin a gun. Johnny wanted to make sure that was squashed. “We didn’t know he had a gun. He’s not even with us. He ran away, you know. We want to handle this honorable, the right way.”

Spot nodded. “That’s just what I wanted to hear Johnny.”

“Nails and me came to an agreement. I don’t see why you and I can’t.”

Spot scowled. “Nails don’t like to fight and figured you’d be stupid enough to keep coming and either me or Jack would end ya.”

“Big Man was right, expansions the only way Bronx is going to get ahead.” Johnny spit.

Spot lit a cigarette, not even giving Johnny the respect to look at him. “Oh yeah and where’s Big Man now Johnny?”

“He retired,” Johnny laughed, “everybody knows that.”

“Do they? Did he retire Johnny? Cause Is got little birdies tellin me different. Tellin me Jackie boy put the hurt on ‘em. He limped home and died. They’re tellin me yous scared too face ‘em after that, that’s why you went down Queen’s coast.”

“Fuck you Spot. You don’t know shit.”

Spot shrugged. “Maybe. How bout this Johnny? You and me and when I soak you, you crawl back to Bronx and fucking stay there.”

He was a head taller than Spot and had at least 50lbs on him. He was at least 3 years older to boot. He knew the boy was tough and could really hand out a soaking but still Johnny didn’t fear him. He’d taken his share of soakings and had handed out a fair share of his own. Had he been with Big Man in Manhattan things might have gone down differently. “And Queens?”

“You don’t leave the Bronx and that shit goes back to Nails.”

Johnny pretended to give it some thought. “And when I soak you?” He wanted things to be clear and time to make sure this was a good idea.

“I’ll leave and you can take Brooklyn as long as you can keep her.” Spot blew smoke and pulled his cane.

Johnny smirked and pulled a knife. “Agreed.” He leaped forward.

On one of the many rooftops overlooking the meeting, Race watched closely, his fingers twisting the crystal as his eyes followed every move below. “Did you kill Big Man?”

Next to him, Jack looked away from the action below and to the boy next to him. “Huh? Where did that come from?”

“Spot said it.”

“How the hell did you hear it? I haven’t heard shit and no I didn’t kill him or at least not out right. He was hurten real bad last I saw. Shit, look at Spot move.”

Spot chuckled as he danced back, evading the fist aimed at his face. Spot could see Johnny boy’s frustration at not landing a hit. Course he could be wrong, it was harder to read Johnny’s face with the way he was bleeding. Spot didn’t know if the leader of Bronx was just slow today or he was particularly fast. He could almost see the move Johnny was planning before he struck. He had always relied on his speed and patience to get what he wanted but it had never been so easy. Even the hits Johnny did land seemed inconsequential. He punched Johnny following as the other staggered back. He pressed the advantage.

Johnny didn’t understand how someone so small hit so fucking hard. It wasn’t possible. He felt himself stumble and reached deep to growl and push back.

Spot took the hit to the side. He knew Johnny had been trying to hit the bullet wound and taking the punch allowed him to get in close enough to run Johnny through.

Johnny fell back, hand going to his stomach.

“Yield. I will kill you.” Spot moved forward, slicing through Johnny’s arm as he fell back.

Johnny glanced around, his hand to his gut he felt something trying to push out of the wound and yelled. “I yield, I yield.” He dropped his knife and clamped both hands to his gut, dropping to his knees.

On the rooftop Race watched Spot accept the Bronx’s surrender. He’d watched Spot fight for years and tonight had been different. Spot was tough and he was wicked with a blade, but he’d never seen a bigger boy fall back at his punches like that.

Race stood. He could tell by the stretch of Spot’s shoulders that he wasn’t even hurting that badly. “Let’s go Kelly.”


	14. Who?

Does anyone else post something and then watch the numbers and think just one more review or just two more kudos and I’ll post the next part. Or even worse, all these people are reading but they aren’t even hitting kudos…maybe they don’t like it…sometimes I have remind myself to write for me.

_They don’t know how we lose control_

_We’ll burn this motherfucker down real slow_

_If they don’t feel our fire we’ll watch them choke-choke on the smoke_

_And we’ll stand there hand in hand so they know_

_Epic Boy, ‘Choke’_

Race starred, hat in hand as the wagon bounced down the block, Spot didn’t bother removing his. They were sitting on a shadow-filled fire escape, too far back and hidden for anyone to care if they paid their respects or not. He wouldn’t have even noticed the wagon if Race hadn’t reacted to it. 

Race leaned against him and Spot tossed his cigarette to pull him closer. “Acushla?”

Race shook his head and wrapped an arm around Spot’s middle. Nearly losing Spot had twisted something up in him. Something that paying back Scotty didn’t ease. Had Spot died…he couldn’t have afforded to bury him in a proper grave. They would have taken him and thrown him into the pauper’s mass grave. Race wouldn’t have even known where they’d put him, wouldn’t have ever been buried next to him. 

“When I die, I don’t wanna go in the pit Spot.” He could still see the cart and watched it roll down the street. His eyes caught on something small and white hanging from the back. He squinted and could make out the fingers as the hand swayed with the cart’s movements. He shivered. 

Spot brushed a kiss across Race’s temple. Personally he didn’t give a shit what happened to his body. He cared a little more about what happened to Race’s but still, in the end, it didn’t matter because whatever soul that was inside him would always find that spark that made up Race, body or not. Still if it bothered Race. “You aint gonna, if it bothers you, I’ll make sure it never happens.” 

Race nearly scoffed at his own relief. He knew Spot was the same age as him, knew he didn’t have any real power outside of de’ newsies but when Spot gave his word Race believed him, possible or not. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Spot replied, “it’s gettin’ late, you heading back to ‘hatten tonight?”

“Might do.”

“I gotta go meet Nails, you wanna go?”

“Na, I’ll meet up with you tomorrow after the track.”

Spot nodded, getting up as Race did. He tucked his cane and then dug in his pocket, pulling out a couple of coins. “Here, place some bets tomorrow.”

Race grinned as he took the coins, “thanks,” he called out as Spot took off, Spot waved over his shoulder that he’d heard. Race watched him go until he couldn’t see him and then slowly made his way down. 

Newsies

It wasn’t like they went by state maps or consulted the city but the newsies had split their territories all the same and every newsie knew where their boundaries were. So Nails knew when he met Conlon (in the alley by Lugas) that they were 3 streets into Queen’s territory from the Brooklyn side. “Conlon.”

“Nails.” Spot leaned back against the alley’s wall, causally dropping a hand to strike a match and light a stolen cigar. He stopped himself before he looked for Race and inhaled again before he addressed Nails. “You used me. It worked out for you, this time, but you,” Spot pointed the cigar towards the other boy, “owe me.”

Nails shrugged. “I thought maybe this expansion of Brooklyn’s might smooth things a bit.” Nails had no doubt Conlon meeting him here was to mark Brooklyn’s new block.

Spot shrugged. “It don’t hurt. Don’t make us even either.”

Nails brushed his hand over his face. “Whatca want Spot?” He’d known this wouldn’t be a simple deal no matter how it worked out. 

Spot raised an eyebrow and blew smoke over their heads. “I’ll let ya know Nails.” 

It was both better and worse than Nail’s had hoped for. No one wanted to owe Spot. Still there was no denying the smaller boy. “Yeah, you do that Spot.” He nodded to his boys, leading them towards Queen’s new border. 

Spot waited until Nail’s and his group turned a corner before he turned to Socks. “Go inside and pick up my order.” So happened Lugas was Race’s favorite restaurant.

Newsies

Jack bit the side of his thumb, the hand bouncing against his lips. It was a bad night. At least it was since a little earlier. He felt like the room was closing in on him. His eyes darted around, all the bunks, the boys making noise. He pulled further into himself, until he realized what he must look like, which wouldn’t do, couldn’t let the boys see his weakness. He made himself flatten his legs against his mattress and sat up straighter. 

He saw the hand reach for him. He flinched and pulled away, before he heard the voice. “Jack?”  
Jack jerked himself and made himself stop retreating, retreating means a beating, his mind hissed. He shook it off and looked to where Crutchie stood beside his bed, hand pulled back before it had even made contact. “Hey Jack, yous alright?”

Jack nodded, with a forced laugh, which he cut off when he realized how it sounded. Crutchie paled at the sound and now all the boys had stopped their antics and were looking at him. “I’m fine.” He tried to sound firm. 

“Jack, a,” Mush looked to Blink, who quickly threw out, “you’re a bleeding there Jack.”

“What?” Jack looked at his hand. He’d worried his thumb to bleeding. “It’s nothin.” He wiped his face on his sleeve. He needed all these eyes to stop focusing on him. Jack jumped from his bunk, opposite the side where Crutchie stood and mumbled something about needing the bathroom. He took off, but not fast enough and he should’ve readied himself for it, but he hadn’t and it was a bad night. So when someone grabbed his shoulder, he turned. At least he had the presence of mind to uncurl his hand so instead of a punch Bumlets just got a shove along with a yell of, “don’t touch me” which he couldn’t help. 

The boys made wide path and none of them tried to reach out. Once Jack cleared the room, the younger darted together, their whispering a worried hum. The elder ignored their mummers to gather to where Crutchie still stood, looking where Jack had disappeared. Crutchie shook it off as Romeo barked, “What the fuck?” He still had one hand on Bumlets, who Specs was looking over even as Bumlets tried to shake the both of them off, with an, ‘I’m fine, he just shoved me a little.’ 

“He was fine earlier.” Mush said. 

“Well he ain’t fine now. He’s two seconds from the looney bin.” Itey answered.

Crutchie thought about it, he had been fine at dinner. “Anybody walk back with him after dinner?” 

Everyone glanced between themselves and no one said anything. 

“You think somebody bothered him?” Bumlets said softly.

Now that he was calmer Romeo sighed. “He’s acting like he does when something’s spooked him.”

“Something or someone?” Itey frowned.

“Where the fuck is Race? He’d talk to him.” Blink asked.  
Crutchie shook his head. “We can’t always depend on them to fix each other. I’ll talk to him.”

“Are you sure that’s such a good idea…”

Crutchie looked to Mush, “Why not?”

Mush looked away, Crutchie looked to the other boys, finally Romeo said. “Ah, because you know how you feel, it might,”

Blink sighed and growled out. “Are you sure that someone that wants to fuck him should go to him about this?”

Crutchie jerked back, shocked and pained. “Wha? Look, I’m his friend first. I ain’t never hurt em and I fucking wouldn’t, Jacks me whole damn world. Don’t you think it hurts me? I hate them for what they did to him.”

Blink raised his hands as he leaned back. “Aright-alright, we’s got ya.” The others quickly agreed.

Still, even in the face of their apology, he was done talking about it and moved around the other boys and towards the bathroom. He was moving pretty fast for him, anger and worry propelling him along. 

The bathroom was dim, the only light from the large window at the end of room. He didn’t think Jack would be in the stalls, he moved slower, looking. He found him in the corner, back against the same far wall that held the window. The light was enough to cast over the plains of Jack’s face, showing the dark circles beneath his eyes and highlighting his good looks. Crutchie sighed sadly. He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to hurt him. He approached slowly, felt like how he treaded around alley dogs when he didn’t know how they’d act. “Jack.” He moved closer, sitting with some difficultly on the floor, but he got there and slowly inched his way closer. 

Jack glanced at him blankly. “Whatca want Crutchie?”

“Wanted to see what eaten at you?”

“Nothin’,” he wrapped his arms around his raised knees. 

Crutchie swallowed, he felt cut off and Jack was starring at his knees, closing him out. “I wanna help.”

“Crutchie, I,”

“Jack?”

Mentally Crutchie cursed the voice that called into the room, hating it because Jack perked up, glancing towards the doorway.

“Race,” Jack called out, his body language opening, as he slid against the wall, standing. 

Race came closer, “What’s yous doin in da dark? Everybody said you needed me,” he paused, taking in the scene. He saw Jack standing and Crutchie attempting the same. He blinked. “Ah, maybe yous don’t need me, I’ll,” he stopped and looked to be leaving. 

“No,” Jack leaped towards him and clutched his arm, stopping him. “No, come on,”

Jack pulled Race out of the room and away from Crutchie. By the time he made it to the door it was to see Jack’s foot leaving via the fire escape. Crutchie leaned against the doorway, heartsick unsure.

Newsies

When Spot showed up at the Manhattan lodging house several of the older boys were still outside smoking. He exchanged some ‘how-do-you-does’ before getting the point. “Where’s Race?” 

Romeo took a break from blowing his hands warm, while he waited for a turn at the cigarette to say, “Roof.”

Spot nodding, turning towards the alley.

“He ain’t alone.” Blink added. 

Spot froze and turned. “And who the fuck is up there with him?”

The boys huddled closer, Mush choked on the smoke. 

“Jack.” Blink quickly replied, “just Jack.”

Spot nodded. That was alright then, he continued on his way, though he smirked at the sighs of relief and cursing of Blink he left behind. He climbed the stairs and hoped he had enough to feed Kelly too, cause sure as hell Race would share with him. He climbed onto the roof, listening for other two. He must have been close because he heard them as he approached.

“Then he said it, you and Race were the whores? He said it, just like that Race.”

Spot found them huddled in a blanket, leaned against the wall. They were sitting side by side and had it been anybody but Jack he might have been jealous. But the way Race’s whole face lit up the moment he came into view, lit Spot’s soul, became a fire that burnt everything else away. He loved this boy.

“Spot,” Race clambered over to meet him, “what are you doin here?”

Spot bit down his smirk and raised an eyebrow. 

Race rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m happy you’re here.”

Spot raised the bag he carried. “Lugas.” 

“Lugas? I love you.”

“Lugas,” Jack parroted, sounding interested.

Spot rolled his eyes, “yeah Cowboy you can have some too.” He started pulling things from the bag. “So ah who were you talkin about?”

“Spot,”

Spot looked up and met Jack’s eyes. “Who the fuck dared Kelly? I wanna name.”


	15. On a slow boat to China

Denton came into his house and carelessly threw on the lights and pulled off his coat and gloves, setting them aside.

“Denton.”

Denton froze in the doorway. He turned from his coat stand. Spot was sitting on his favorite chair in front of the fireplace. He had made himself comfortable, hands resting over the head of his cane. He’d no idea Spot knew where he lived, but he could’ve gotten the information from Jack. That just reminded him of the conversation that gone so wrong with Jack earlier. He hadn’t meant his outburst but he hadn’t expected to remember Jack from that night. He’d felt so much guilt about that night and the two children he’d left. He should’ve watched his words better. “Spot.”

Spot smirked, “Evenin’ Denton.”

Denton looked around. He didn’t see any obvious ways of entry and his door had been locked. “What can I do for you?”

Spot’s smirk turned nasty. “You can never speak to Jack Kelly or Racetrack Higgins again, for a start.”

Denton took the seat opposite and reminded himself Spot was just a kid. Hell a little kid. He couldn’t even sit back all the way in the chair without his feet leaving the floor. Still, something about the kid really put him off. “I know the conversation went badly and I will apologize to him, but I don’t see where this concerns you.”

“Jack’s me friend and Race is mine. So it concerns me a great deal.” 

Denton frowned and leaned back in his chair. “Wait, ‘yours’, what does that mean?” He was sure Race and Spot were too young for a relationship. Then again after what Race had been through maybe…the thought was disturbing and he shut it down.

Spot rolled his eyes. “I know yous look at me and see a little street kid. Someone you don’t have to take seriously.”

Denton smiled at being caught out but couldn’t deign it. 

Spot smirked and leaned against the side of chair. “Dat’s okay Denton. Yous ain’t gotta.”

Knock-Knock

Spot stood and rolled his cane, smoothly sliding it into his belt loop. “Maybe you’ll listen to that.”

Denton frowned and opened the door carefully, smiling and opening the door fully to the runner from his paper. “Timmy, my lad, what do you have for me?” 

“Boss handed this down, Mr. Denton, sir.”

Denton dug in his pocket and handed over a penny. “Thanks kid.”

“Thank you, sir.” The kid took off.

Denton turned, waving the envelope, but the room was empty. “What the hell? Spot?” The window wasn’t open. He went into the bedroom, the kitchen, the kid was gone. Kid must have climbed out the window and down the fire escape from the bedroom. He shook his head amused as he opened the letter. He read it quickly and then more slowly, collapsing into his seat. He was being sent abroad, China to cover the Boxer Rebellion, his boat left in two days. How had Spot known, or better yet, how had he planned it?

Two buildings over, Spot leaned against the wall. “Thanks.”

The Madam nodded, her green eyes flashing. “Anything Spot, you know that. Marcus would love for you, Race, and Jack to visit.”

Spot lit a smoke, “Yeah, this week?”

She nodded, “Of course my dear.” She turned and the driver quickly jumped from the carriage to open the door and held her hand as she entered. She glanced out the window to him and Spot casually saluted her. She smiled and called the driver on.

Newsies

Three damn days and no Davey. Jack was beginning to worry. This was more days than Dave had missed all together since they’d started. He glanced around, biting his lip. Mouth was never late. So he wasn’t coming again today. The papes weighed heavily in Jack’s arms. He tossed between selling all 200 himself or selling them back, taking the loss and heading to Davy’s.

Crutchie took one look at the other boy and walked over. “So he didn’t say he weren’t comin’ right?”

Jack scowled, “no, he didn’t say nothin.”

“This is really not like him.”

“No, it ain’t.”

“You’s gonna go check on em or should I? I’d take me longer.” Crutchie wiggled the crutch.

“I got it.” Jack smiled and wandered over to where Crutchie stood, glad he’d stuck around. “So how’s things?”

Crutchie dropped his head to adjust his hold on his papers, hiding his fond smile. “Hadn’t changed much since you asked earlier.”

Jack’s grinned turned sheepish. “Yeah right. I’m just,”

“Stalling?”

Jack frowned at him, turning away slightly. “Talkin, seeing how me udder best friend is fairing.”

Crutchie barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He didn’t know why Jack was so reluctant to check unless. “It ain’t you Cowboy. He ain’t mad.”

Jack dropped his eyes down and away. Crutchie nearly gasped at the arch of want that burned though him. He took a moment to remember what he’d been saying. “We wanna talk to you, but we’re waiting til you wanna talk too.”

Jack kicked some dirt and asked it, “What if it takes me some time till I’m ready?”

Crutchie shrugged. “Then we wait. We ain’t pressin you. We’re just waiting, all patient and shit.”

Jack pulled himself together and swayed away. “I think I’m gonna head his way, maybes sell these while I go.”

Crutchie patted his arm. “You do that. Let me know, huh?” 

Jack nodded as he started off. “Yeah. See ya at lunch.”

Crutchie agreed. He watched the other boy walk away and shook his head. There was a voice in the back of his head screaming at him for sending Jack to David, but most of him was concerned. It wasn’t like David not to show and if sending Jack was the only way for him to find out the whats of it, he’d do it. It didn’t feel as bad as he thought it should. 

Jack had sold more than half of the papes by the time he’d reached Davie’s place. He thought to pause and sell some more but he saw Les on the steps and one look at the small boy’s upset face and Jack quickly crossed the street. 

“Jack!” Les smiled at him as Jack dropped down to sit next to him on the steps.

“Hey-ya Les, why the long face?”

Les sniffled and, reminded of his problems, dropped his head. “De warehouse won’t hire papa back.”  
Jack nodded as he set the papers aside and wrapped an arm around the kid. He’d kind-a thought that would happen. They probably given the job away before Mr. Jacobs had left the place. Once out of a job, it was nigh impossible to get another. “Oh yeah, so he can get another.” Les didn’t need to know how impossible it was.

Les shook his head. “You don’t understand Jack, we’re leaving!” The boy cried out distressed before the tears began anew. 

“Leaving?” cold dread balled up in Jack’s stomach. He swallowed thickly to keep his morning biscuit down.


	16. Pearls

Part 16

Jack had comforted Les the best he could, before he took off into the building. He tried to be patient as he waited for someone to answer the door. Sarah answered with a sad smile, “Jack”, gesturing him in. “He’s on the roof.”

Jack barely acknowledged Davie’s parents (he didn’t feel real comfortable around them now anyway) before he was out the window and on the roof. “Mouth?”

“Here.” David smiled at him, with a teasing raised eyebrow, when Jack sat next to him. “Missed me huh?”

“Fuck no,” Jack scoffed, “sick of carrying ya.”

David smiled and slowly dropped his head back to rest against the wall. He stared up at the sky. “We knew he wouldn’t get his old job back ya know? We just thought he’d get something…but there hasn’t been anything. The bills are piling and de man came by today for rent. We ain’t got it Jack. What me and Les bring in and what Ma and Sarah bring in for washin ain’t enough. Ma’s gotta sister in Minnesota. She wants to go there. They’re farmers ya know? My uncle said they got land there, Walnut Grove. Sarah’s gonna be the new schoolmarm if you can believe that?” 

Jack tried to picture it but couldn’t. “And you?”

David shook his head. “I ain’t goin. I’d just be another person taking food, another person for them to take care of. I can’t farm, Jack. I don’t want to.”

Jack was thrilled, his stomach unknotted. Until, “so they know that?” He didn’t remember much about parents but he thought they might have some control over such things.

“Been fighting about it.”

Jack thought he must have argued with his parents but couldn’t really remember how that went. He thought some hittin might be involved, but maybe not with David’s parents. He struggled over what to say for a few minutes. He landed on an idea that might have been crazy and maybe not work, but maybe. “What if he got another job? Would they still leave?”

Mouth shrugged with a half smile. “Maybe, but papa can’t carry the banner Jack. Whatca thinking?”

Jack nodded thoughtfully. “Look I gotta go. I’ll be back.”

David grabbed his arm. Jack looked down to David struggling to figure out what to say but the concern was all too clear. Finally all he said was, “don’t do anything dumb, be careful. No matter what they say, I ain’t going nowhere.”

Jack knew David believed that. He just wasn’t sure he did.

Newsies

Race couldn’t tear his eyes away. He wanted to, really he did, if only to end Spot’s amused chuckling next to him, but there was something so fascinating about watching a woman’s bare ass as she climbed the stairs in front of them. It wasn’t completely bare there was a string that disappeared between her cheeks, but it was as bare as he’d ever seen. The ribbons from her corset swayed across the pale cheeks, not distracting him at all. In his defense Jack was staring too and Race knew his face wasn’t as red as Jack’s. Spot outright laughed when she stopped and Jack walked right into her for staring. Race congratulated himself for not being that bad. 

The woman huffed and quickly stepped away. She turned and deftly grabbed a short silk robe from a medal hook on the hallway wall. Race figured robes on various hooks down the hallway was a concession to the place’s business. 

She opened door, she’d insisted on walking them to, even though Spot had told her he’d known where to go. Spot might have known but Race hadn’t been sure until she opened the door. It was the same room, though it looked even richer the second time. He hoped he’d wiped his shoes good enough at the door. The woman leaned against the door as they passed but didn’t leave. Spot raised an eyebrow with inquiry. She sniffed and tossed her blonde hair. “The Mister should be up soon, bathing wouldn’t be amiss.”

Jack scowled and crossed his arms. “We bath.” Maybe not today, or yesterday, well maybe not the day before that, actually it might have been at Medda’s but it was getting cold damn-it. It wasn’t like the newsies’ bunk house had ample heat or even hot water. Most newsies just did a wash-up with a rag during the winter months. He glanced to the fireplace warm with fire. He bet this place had hot water. 

Race didn’t like her, hadn’t liked her since the moment she’d led them away from Midnight and insisted she would walk them, interesting ass or not. She leaned up against the door and gave them the stink eye. Race could read the jealously and meanness in her curled lip. 

“You think Minster Marcus wants dirty street rats.” She rolled her eyes and Race figured maybe she was younger than she looked. 

“We stifling your time darling?” Spot smirked, non-pulsed and more amused by her hateful attitude, “thinking he should be wanting time with you?”

She scowled. “Mister spends plenty of time with me. Where do you think I got these?” she slipped her finger under a strand of pearls and shook them. “I just happen to know Mister doesn’t like sticking his dick into dirty things.”

Spot’s smirk widened, “Well that can’t be true cause there ain’t nothin clean about you.”

Red-faced with rage and indignation she hissed, “You little fuck!”

She moved into the room and stopped as her head yanked back, the pearls a choker. She gagged as she turned and choked out fearfully. “Madame,”

The Madame snarled and yanked her hand down, sending the girl crumbling to the floor. Madame’s crimson satin gleamed in the light as she looked down at the girl, “Stay”, and nodded towards them with a genteel smile. “Thank you for coming tonight mon angels. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to welcome you myself. Marcus sends his regards, he will be with you shortly, until then he sends this.” She nodded into the hallway, moving aside as a man entered the room with a large platter, which he set on the table. The man lifted the lid and the plates of food still steaming wafted into the air. 

Race’s mouth watered. Jack stared moving towards the food. Only Spot didn’t look away from the Madame. “Thanks.” He hadn’t been able to buy too much extra food lately with so many younger ones needing food and warm clothing for the cold. 

She smiled. “Enjoy and not that this,” she waved a hand towards the girl, “was right, but Marcus does have a tub and hot water, right through that door.” She nodded towards a closed door. “I know how cold those old buildings get and how dreadful it can be to wash when the weather begins to turn.” 

Race and Jack were so distracted by the food, Spot didn’t know if they even heard her but he nodded. “Yeah, we’ll do that.”

She nodded and turned from him to the girl. “You up.” The girl preceded her from the room while trying to pull her hauteur together. The Madame smirked back at him before closing the door. Spot turned to Race and Jack. “Yous gonna eat or what?”

Newsies

David looked around the lodging house, not ceasing until his eyes met Crutchie’s and he quickly made his way towards the other boy. “We need somewhere to talk.” 

David wasn’t sure if a closet was what he’d had in mind, but it worked and Crutchie said they wouldn’t be bothered. He explained why he’d been gone and what he’d spoken to Jack about. “And I hoped to find him here.”

“I haven’t seen him since this morning. He didn’t show up for lunch but neither did Race, so maybe he’s with Race.” Crutchie’s face pinched. “He only does that stuff with Race.”

David scowled. He didn’t have time to be jealous of Race. “What does that have to do with getting my papa a job?”

Crutchie sighed and figured Jack wouldn’t be too mad if he told David, if only because it was David. “There is dis man, Marcus, he’s real powerful like. Snitch says he owns Nightshade, real razzy place.” David’s lips thinned, his eyes narrowed and Crutchie knew the other boy knew something. “What?” 

“I met him, Marcus, that’s who Jack went to when Spot got hurt.” David knew there had been something about Marcus. But Jack didn’t react the way David thought he would with someone that was using him like that.

“Do you know the way?” Crutchie interrupted his thoughts.

They had run that day but David thought he could figure it out. “Yeah, maybe.”

Crutchie struggled up and David resisted helping him.

“Let’s go.” 

Newsies 

“But why did they take our clothes?” Jack complained. He was wearing the hated nightshirt, which was all that was left to wear after their other clothes had been taken. 

Spot figured Jack was still bitchin due to the embarrassment of having to toss his shabby clothes to some girl while hiding from behind a tub room’s door. The girl having to wait while he emptied his pockets. Spot had learned from Jack’s experience, he had cleared and tossed his and Race’s out the door before being asked. Spot figured that was the price of going first, claiming to be faster than him and Race going together, which might have been true. They had gotten a little carried away in the heat. It was just the warmest either had been in awhile. Race looked up at him from where he sat, rolling his eyes with more patience at Jack’s antics than Spot had. “Shut it Cowboy.”

Jack scowled and slumped in his seat. “I ain’t go no other warm stuff Spot. I need those back.” Though he was plenty warm right now, he couldn’t forget how cold the outside and lodging house could be.

Race was going to answer, even put down the bread he’d been picking at, unable to resist even if he was full, when the door opened and he froze. 

“Sorry my boys.” Marcus bustled in. Midnight walked in behind him while carrying a large box, which the big man placed on the floor before leaving quietly and shutting the door. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but I come baring gifts so I hope alls forgiven.”

Spot eyed Marcus, even as Jack and Race eyed the box, and said. “Yeah, can’t complain.”

“Good,” Marcus walked over to his liquor cabinet. “Got something new for you boys to try, a red from Italy I think you’ll like it.” He brought back four glasses, handing one to each of them, taking a large sip from his own glass, before he wave for them to take theirs. “I’m very glad and honored I have been able to help you these past couple of weeks. I hope you will continue to call upon me.”

“You’ve helped a lot and we’s preciate it.” Spot allowed. He took another drink from the large glass given to him and, while the stuff was delicious, if Marcus thought he’d get drunk on this he’d be disappointed. 

Race drank his wine and waited for Marcus to tell him what their tab was. 

Jack was almost too nervous to drink his wine, or maybe he was too nervous to stop drinking it, the glass was nearly gone and he barely remembered touching it. “Um,” he paused when Marcus looked to him.

“Yes Jack?”

Jack swallowed. “I, um, know we’s owe you lots and I’m willing to pay, really I am, but I gotta nother thing to ask yous for…”

Marcus tilted his head, his brown eyes dancing. “Jack, you’ve already fulfilled your obligation to me. I asked you to come back, drink my wine, and allow me to spoil you and you’re doing just that. We have a clean slate.”

“Just like that.” Spot asked.

Marcus winked. “Just like that.” He went back to the cabinet and brought back the decanter and refilled everyone’s glass, before he pulled out a seat at the table and sat, looking between them. “I have a new record player so I might ask for a dance.”

“A new record player?” Race had never seen one, seen them advertised in the papes, but never seen one close up. Medda had one but they were expensive and she kept it locked away and he’d never had the moxy to ask. He looked around. 

“It’s the large box sitting on that table over there.” Marcus gestured across the room. “Go ahead Race and take a look at it.”

Race glanced to Spot, who shrugged. Race grinned and took off across the room. Marcus smiled after him with a fondness that Spot wasn’t sure what to think of. He didn’t understand this game Marcus was playing and it vexed him. He leaned back in his chair, studying the man and trying to fit the pieces together.

Jack swallowed. “A dance? Um yeah, that’d be alright.”

Marcus leaned forward, “just a dance Jack. While I would love to take you to bed and show you more wonderful things as I did last time,” Jack blushed prettily and dropped his head. Spot rolled his eyes, Jacky-boy needed to learn not to throw himself in front of lions. Marcus smiled softly and continued. “This visit is just that, a visit. Though I would like permission do that again sometime.” Jack didn’t lift his head but nodded and Marcus smiled. “And that is good enough for me. Now what is it you wanted?”

“There’s dis friend of mine Mouth, I mean Davie, his papa,” Jack explained, and while Marcus nodded along, Spot didn’t care. 

Spot knew it would have something to do with Davie, things with Jack invariably did, Davie or that kid with the crutch. He also knew that Jack was setting himself up for some payback. Then again he’d already done the same, the minute he let Marcus save his life. And, as he knew Race would consider saving Spot’s life as a favor to him, Spot knew they basically belonged to Marcus regardless of any niceties. So while he didn’t understand the nice stuff he’d take it, until it changed and then he’d do as he’d always done, anything that needed to be. 

Marcus nodded as Jack tapered off. “I don’t know if he’d take a job here Jack. However, do you know what he did at his old job? What factory was he in?” Jack told Marcus what he knew, his leanings towards the dramatic coming though as he regained his confidence. Once Jack had run out of steam, Marcus smiled. “I’ll see what I can do Jack before they leave. Perhaps I can find a solution that will give us a reason to celebrate when you visit next week.” Jack nodded and Spot nearly sighed, which brought Marcus’ attention his way. “I’ll see you and Race next week as well, won’t I?” 

Spot smiled but couldn’t even pretend to blush, so here was the payment schedule, smoothly done too, Spot was nearly impressed. “Of course, Marcus.”

Marcus grinned “very good. Any day will do, but perhaps Thursdays for the reason that’s the slowest night around here.”

Jack nodded and Spot agreed, mentally giving up his Thursdays for the foreseeable future. 

Marcus stood, brown eyes flashing his happiness. “Now then my boys a dance?”

Marcus let Race pick the record and then showed him how to start it. Spot didn’t dance with Race often but it wasn’t because he didn’t like it. Race was even feeling magnanimous enough to let him lead without a fight. Marcus waltzed with Jack, head tilted down so he could whisper in Jack’s ear, making him blush and laugh at different turns. When the song ended Marcus asked for a dance with Spot, which meant giving up his lead. Marcus whisked him around a few moments before leaning down. “I won’t hurt Race or you Spot. Give me the time to prove it.”

“Yeah, alright.” Spot figured as long as things went smoothly he could afford to pay. Marcus didn’t try to romance him and Spot appreciated it. He let Marcus spin him once and even let himself laugh. He leaned against a table when Marcus had his dance with Race and liked the way Marcus handled the other boy carefully. Marcus danced close enough for Spot to hear him make to Race the same declaration as he’d made to Spot and nothing else. Marcus handed Race’s hand back to Spot with a smile and a slight bow. Spot recognized the gesture with a nodded. 

Marcus went to the box and easily placed it on the table, moving Race’s glass and holding it out. “Race, finish your glass, can’t waste the good stuff my boy.” Race took up the glass and drained it easily, placing it next to the other empty ones as Marcus opened the box. “Ah, here we are.” He pulled out 3 brown paper bundles, each wrapped with string, marked with black grease pencil, J, S, and R. He handed them out. “These are my gifts to you. I am fulfilling my spoiling portion of the evening. So accept, knowing it clears my promise to you and I hope to fulfill my promise each week.”

Spot wasn’t up to date on the cost of clothes parse but these were functional and not to fancy but sewn well. Jack didn’t waste a moment pulling the garments on under his nightshirt and then forgoing the nightshirt to throw on the shirt and vest. There were shoes with a good sole. Some socks, gloves, hats, and a new coat for each of them, softer and heavier than anything Spot had ever owned. The pants had a loop big enough for his cane and Race had a place for his pocket watch. 

“I’ll have your old clothes washed and you can take them home next week.” Marcus seemed pretty pleased with himself and, looking at Race’s and Jack’s happiness, Spot relented on saying anything but.

“Thanks.” Spot caught his eyes, hopefully showing he meant it.

Marcus nodded. “You’re welcome. There’s some money in the pocket a little spending money if you will. If you need more, you know where I am.” 

A sharp knock on the door interrupted anything else and Marcus went to the door, opening it enough to lean though, he laughed and leaned back in, turning to look their way, amusement all over his face. “Jack it looks like you’ve been tracked down and our time tonight is at an end.”

Jack shoved his things into his new various pockets, even as he said, “Tracked down?”

“Yes, it seems Mouth and a Crutchie are awaiting you.”

Jack reddened and smiled then scowled seemingly at a loss. 

Marcus laughed. “Be gone with you three, till next week my boys.” Spot had already loaded his pockets and waited while Race finished. He smiled when Race showed him some newly found cigars in a pocket. At the door, Marcus tousled Jack’s hair, “they must worry about you Jack and that’s not a bad thing.” He allowed Spot through with just a squeeze on the shoulder, but tousled Race’s hair as well. “I might have a game for you next time my boy, just say the word.” Race grinned at the idea. 

The Madame was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. Jack felt well enough to turn on the charm. He smiled as he leaned over her hand, giving it a kiss and thanked her sweetly for her hospitality.

She smiled, her whole face alight. “Oh you little tease. You brighten Marcus so. I’ll see you next week.”

She waved Jack towards Midnight, who stood by the red door. The reminded of who waited on him made Jack paused uncertain. Madame, seeing his conflict, leaned in. “They care about you Jack, I could see that. They aren’t going to make you feel ashamed, go on, talk to them. You’ll see.” Jack nodded and wandered towards the door his swaggered contained.

Race smiled up at the Madame. “Thank you Madame. Marcus said I might be able to sit in on a game.”

She smiled sweetly. “You’re welcome and of course you may sit in on as many games as you like.”

Both she and Race noticed Jack still standing at the door and Race nodded towards him. “I’d better.”

She bit down her laugh. “Yes, you maybe should.”

She spoke to Spot while still looking at the door. “That boy of yours doesn’t miss much, does he?”

Spot raised an eyebrow. “Sure don’t, neither do I.” His hand moved out and brushed a finger over her necklace, he glanced at the red before wiping it on his new coat. “They look better on you.” He nodded towards the pearls around her neck. 

She smiled, sharper now with an edge of white teeth. “Thank you.”

“Appreciate it.” No one spoke to Race like that and he was glad it was taken care of.

“My pleasure, Spot.”

He nodded and wandered over to the door. “Stayin all night Kelly?”

“Ah no Spot.” Jack took a deep breath and opened the door.

As the door closed behind them, the Madame leaned back to feel Marcus’ chest beneath her back. “He’s magnificent and the other two perfectly delightful. I adore them.”

“As do I,” Marcus murmured.

“And how did they enjoy the wine tonight?” She asked lightly, though her wishes shined through.

“Drank every drop,” Marcus stared at the red door. “Little steps mon soeur, little steps.”

 

It was the kudos and comments that brought me back to this story after a derailment into Harry/Draco land. I thank you all ever so much for your continued patience and support. Every Kudos and remark brings me back and makes me work, cause while I have to write for myself, I really appreciate having you along. I will of course love any feedback or suggestions you have. Thank you! I am now off to find an old HP work and then to OZ!


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